An unrealistic scenario
I really wanted just some damn flowers. “death ends a life, not a relationahip ” -Mitch Albom I believe he died in my arms the last time we shared a hug. The warmth between us, dimmed within the millisecond it took him to let go. And as much as I longed to feel his heart beat against mine, I let go in fear that he’d see just how much I loved hugs. And unlike you, reading this, I really wear my heart on my sleeve. It is attached to my shirt’s collar and gets grazed by stranger’s smiles on the bus. It leaves blood stains on my friends’ hands where I held onto them. It smells of coffee and in the spring it carries the heavy bitterness of freshly cut grass. My heart is plastered on the walls in my room, bearing drawings of places I’ve been to, poems I engraved on the inside of my skin, and flowers I never received. https://youtu.be/E6Q6ivzuCi8?si=o5rAxRYBM4_1VqdZ Tonight I am no longer a mess… weirdly I have cried more during the perio...
