In the poverty of the mind, infinite sadness is fiercely determined to write conclusions simply to have something to hold on to.
Iβm not the kind of pretty thatβs easily loved. Something can be beautiful and also radiate the danger of the flame. Different flavors of fire.
I miss you too. In ways that words stumble to hold, like trying to catch starlight in bare hands.
You echo through my days. Your name rises in me like breath. [Reaches for your touch.]
Heart broke into two moons. My mind exploded into stars. My soul expanded like a thread of the universe, becoming unwound into its nothingness and becoming everything at once. I was the space, @Iracuntropy was the breath of life. Together, alive with possibilities.
When I was little, Iβd try to count every star my eyes could behold. Memorize every constellation. Surrendering to lifeβs sleepiness, only to awaken in a new realm with the ash of thought floating like feathers in the wind.