2 MONTHS POST BREAKUP
"Just for July, I'll wear 31 sundresses in every borrowed shade of blue, a floppy straw hat, and perfume that smells like pears and vanilla. We can fall in love. Or pretend to.
August will bring storms. And I will leave him with every sunflower seed in my pocket."
He looks at me like I'm a Van Gogh painting, as if I'm a fiery star in a black sky. And then he speaks to me with words so intoxicating, they might as well be shots of whiskey. He's so good for me, to the point where I think I've caught feelings instead of a cold and to be frank, it's a lot worse than a runny nose. Because I am the cigarette to the lung-cancered patient that he is, eventually transforming him into misery itself: toxic, tasting of pure corruption, just like me. I want to thank him for finding me even though I'm a really small star in a giant galaxy, but that he should hop in his rocket and jet back off to Earth, where things are safer for an emotionally unstable astronaut like him.
I know I'll only destroy him. I have quite the habit of ruining everything I touch but yet I allowed myself to touch his lips and poison him anyway. Nothing lasts forever, and neither will we. But until then, he is my medicine; soothing the ache in my heart that the last boy left, dented with false hope and broken promises.
I love him but love will tear us apart and so I can't commit.
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Late Night Thoughts
Short StoryA collection of things I wish I could've done differently expressed through conversations spent with fellow friend, Jack.
