some voices kill;

from Pexels;
from Pexels;

The words I had heard when I visited the door of your hotel sent me into my indigo nightmares. “I’m doing it for a cause; soon, he’ll die and we can live in peace.”

I did not know my stage 4 cancer was a sling rounded on the cliff’s rock. I could feel your hands burned my insides.

The night cried and the flames tore the house we built. On the wet grass, I let my feet kissed the sorrows of the moon while staring at the hungry fires devoured the pieces of our souls.

My phone rang. “I’m coming home.”

The bones of our home remained, but the hands of its destroyer left. The sunset grew brighter.

“Where?” I asked.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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