one morning in summertime, i woke up feeling nothing but a slight antsy over the sound of what seems like a harsh cry.
"hueiaansnsmazakmxbccbdyeuwoama," she says.
yawning, i clasp my hands and stretch my arms skyward, "erm, pardon?"
"hueiaansnsmazakmxbccbdyeuwoama," she repeats.
"what're you saying?"
"hueiaansnsmazakmxbccbdyeuwoama."
the day continues to lodge with uncertainty whether she's just perpetrating what she's saying or not. everything seems like a barrage of white noise all over the place.
---
it's noon. my mind's still packed with question marks. she's never been like this before.
"hueiaansnsmazakmxbccbdyeuwoama," she mutters for the nth time today.
---
past seven in the evening. we just grabbed our dinner. her words lingeringly piqued my curiosity. she's conversing with the same wordings she's been using.
to cut off what may become a long conversation of false impressions, i offered to do the dishes instead.
"hueiaansnsmazakmxbccbdyeuwoama," she curtsies expressing her gratitude then heads to our room.
i followed her immediately after doing the chore. i felt a tad reluctant to spring a step.
the night's awkwardly sinking in, and so as the actuality of what's happening. we're now into bed and prepped ourselves to sleep. i still can't unslacken my creased eyebrows. she's totally an enigma that she always was.
i bid her a good night instead.
"hueiaansnsmazakmxbccbdyeuwoama," i added.
"thank you," she finally spoke.
YOU ARE READING
Fools
PoetryA collection of poetry found its way juxtaposed with short works of prose, conveying talks about what comprises the life of a fool, what it takes to be such, and whatnots in between. Fools is a book of poems and prose alike, dedicated for those who...
