Prose

Don't

Six

I've realized how permanent the number six can be, yet so temporary. It's dwindling down to five four three two I can't breathe I cannot and I will not dare to imagine a world without you walking through whitewashed hallways and not seeing your wavy hair weave its way through the masses and your mouth opens wide really really wide when you yawn and then it stretches into a sort of smile and you laugh like a little girl and five four three two I don't want to imagine a world where you don't accidentally touch me I want to feel your heart in my hand and your lips on my forehead I wonder if you're the taste of pain or the taste of heaven I wonder how you feel and what you like in your hot chocolate and if you even like hot chocolate or tea or just nothing at all do you even care that I have five four three two days do you even think about the fact that gone is a permanent word will you miss me will you think about me will you even say a word to me as I walk down that aisle for the last time will you even act like you care?

Five four three two one.

June 12, 2014 6:22pm