LOVE to DEATH and SOUVENIRS

all those post it love letters we’d speckled o’r the kitchen cupboard doors, didn’t spell things correctly it turns out.

grief’s a wretched companion, what else leaves you sobbing with fists full of grass kneeling in front of the pergola you’d built with just the two, like some sort of sacrifice.

Hey, I’m not trying to bother you, it started..as if i were busy and she’d asked me to help her get the email down off of the highest shelf. not at all like she’d just squeezed my fragility between her middle finger and the rock shaped heart that i’d scouted.
bother. squeezed.
one was always her go-to bargain and the latter, my
notion.


and that’s it. the magic tricked us both.
i mean,
you get that tshirt that says ‘best girlfriend forever’ when it’s souvenir time, because,
well, that’s just what you
do.

Reviews

[@r[@nE]

Well, i don't know if i got the situation and meaning exactly correct but in my view love is truly magical , so magical that it gives a sigh of bliss but only for some prior second and by the end after their departure leaves us only with our wretched heart and memories.

regards,

@r[@ne