Beauty Seen is Never Lost

They’re all over your wardrobe doors; sketches and portraits that were scraped off your skin. I look at them, tucking away a shiver that ran through my veins. Your edges are no longer smooth strikes of a sharpened pencil; they're smears of dark matter.
" Why , is it, do you choose to sketch misery? Why is it, do you choose void, and not that liveliness I know you possess?”
You look right back at me, with a smile that speaks of childhood afternoon quests and watermelon seeds contests. “ We’re hollow, and you know it. Do you see it too, when you close your eyelids? That shapeless memory, of midnight shrieks and pains? Of endless heaves and agonies? Can you, for a second forget, that we sat there, watching a soul break down into so many shards, until there was nothing else but nothingness itself for death to claim?”.
And I thought you knew how to wrap your heart up in paper-bubbles, to guard it from days that we chose to tie a knot around. But there you are , a broken-hearted man, sketching an ache only you knew of, while living life as if it was one of the funniest jokes you’d ever heard of.

Posted by Diddlina at 2:15 AM