Chapter 1


when i was six years old, i fell off the roof.
perhaps you have heard the story before of how i thought i could fly
and then found out that i couldn't,
and perhaps you have not.
but when my mother ran outside screaming,
and i stared up at the sky without feeling a single bit of pain;
that was the first time that i felt she really did love me.
now, as a young child, i had not been aware that perhaps she did not.
as all young children, i did not question such trivial things as "love."
but looking back, that was the first day that i remember being truly content.
those fleeting moments have been few since then,
and since then i have lost the filter between my heart and my hands,
much like my mother did before me.
i love in touches,
and tonight when the rain is full of ghosts,
it will hit my skin and i will feel loved by the ghosts that dance through the teardrops.
i cannot breathe unless i am breathing you in,
and although there are approximately 1,013,913 words in the english language,
there is no way that i could ever string them together in a way that would explain how much i love you.
i carry you in my bloodstream, and when my veins run dry, so, too, will my words.
i wish i could love you casually;
like with the eerie nonchalance my mother holds for me.
i am sorry that my palms have always called out for yours.
my one request of you is this:
please do not try to fix me.
you may yet cut yourself on the broken pieces of my soul.


© 2019 Polarity Technologies

Invite Next Author

Write a short message (optional)

or via Email

Enter Quibblo Username


Report This Content