a foreign language.

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What I had feared before happened tonight. My skin no longer recognized the graze of your fingers. Every grip and rip on my body sang a strange song to my ear. But I held your gaze and waited for your old soul to return—it did not.

And so your eyes spoke the exhaustion to my sight—to every bone that built this skeleton. “Rest now, love. Tomorrow we could see the sunset together.” But I already had.

Your mouth moved with a foreign language, the dialect of your new universe in the other room. I pressed my palm on your cheek, and swiped the blood on your lower lip—the remnant of your being.

And when I woke up in the morning, I would just shrug my shoulder and wash it off my thumb.


WORD COUNT: 135

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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