We had not yet converse into one of our routines. The last time happened years ago; you might, as well, have forgotten about it.
The hums of the tall dark trees or the floating fish on the surface of the red sea. The white tears of the rain or the broken voices of the waterfalls. The frozen sex with the lava of the recent eruption or the filthy skin of its ashes. The quiet wake and the joy-filled death or the sleepless dreams of loss. Anything, if you were still here.
On the damp grassland, I watched the dark skies strummed the strings of yesterday. At some point tonight you would remember me from somewhere; but like the cold stars near the break of dawn, I knew it would only fade again.
WORD COUNT: 132
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.