some perfect disappearance;

by Matthew Burgos

You became dry when you returned.

Your eyes searched the white walls for the drawings of our significance, but your found remorse instead. You would smoke when you could not eat, drink vodka when you could not think, and sing hollow songs when you could not breathe. In the slowest manner of time, you set me aside.

If God let our baby cried for just a second before she died, would it make a difference?

Just so I could be alive with you, I danced to your routine. I would leave before you come home, to only come back after you depart. Gone were the days we meant the words we speak.

The bus sped along the freeway. In this week-long break, my mind should be vacant; but every minute without your sound was a symbol of a perfect disappearance.

Somehow, we were turning into two flawed characters written between the forgotten pages of a burned Bible.


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.

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