'"Why did you throw yourself in front of your boy?"
I stared up at her black button eyes and attempted to decipher the thoughts behind her piercing gaze. She stood an exact meter from me, the way she had been posed for the last minute. On her arm, the metal wristband continued to tick rhythmically.
"Because I love him," I answered after a long silence. "And I would die for him. And I would've, ...
'Darling, time is an awfully perplexing concept, is it not? So subjective, yet so carefully named and stuctured and labelled. In each moment there lives a thousand more, blurring all the seconds and minutes that march along. What is now? I do not speak of this exact minute, nor second, nor the single instant that just passed which is now many many single instants away. Instead, a concept. An idea,...
‘I sit facing the window the way I’ve been for the past two hours, staring into the space directly in front of me, never quite focused on anything in the foreground, as the sun sinks into darkness. My legs are crossed, my tattered sneakers on the floor beneath the table, next to my rain-sodden umbrella. The bittersweet aroma of coffee grounds circles around me, snuggling into the minuscule gaps in...
‘It’s almost as if no time has passed. I’m sure for you, it feels like a hundred years; a lifetime. Each time I speak to you, a thin curtain veils you from me, your silhouette visible but never quite the details of your face. I handed you my heart so long ago… What have you done with it now? Does it lay atop your dresser, dust settling? Have you left it to decay, deep under that bed of yours, wher...
‘After months, you have finally disappeared. I waited by your side every day, watching each feature of your face for any sign of change… How could I have missed something? We were on the seesaw of life together, propelling each other to the sky when we lost the strength to do so ourselves. Never in the time I spent with you did you ever let me touch the ground: always lifting me, supporting me, ke...
‘I dread the day I leave you. Of all the good-byes to be made in this world, why must it be you? I shelve every memory we share in a glass cabinet that stands in the corner of my bedroom, yet the windows will eventually chip away and shatter, just like the fibre-thin cracks crawling across my framed works. I don’t ever want to wake from this dream; to return to a reality where these memories flitt...