Flickering lights.

I remember the red lights embracing our bodies, the first time we kissed. It reached the darkest corners of your tiny room, sealed the darkness with lust and something we might have considered as love.

That light has faded now. That light no longer embraces our naked bodies against a squeaking matters. Now the walls of your room, no longer veiled in red reveal the torn paint falling onto the ground. I knock on your door hoping to see that red light once again. I hear voices coming from inside, but it’s not yours. Not ours. I walk past your door once more and the infamous fumes blur my sight. I lose control. I trip. I fall. My speech stumbles upon meaningless thoughts. My mind is wired, threaded by confusion. Dazed by a red light that is no longer bright and I guess we didn’t set of right from the start and lust could only take us so far.

I try to hold on the feeling, anchoring myself to an incessant pain. A feeling which, is so well know to me now, I’d feel lonely if it left. A feeling so daunting and scary, so dug up into my guts. A feeling I will never get rid off. A loyal companion.

My dearest solitude,

Your cold touch pierces through my skin, sucking into my pale bones and I shall love you.

Love you till the day that I’m back to live.

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