20th June

She was the kind of woman who gave away pieces of herself in small doses. The kind of woman who didn’t need somebody to save her from the inundating darkness within which she was enslaved but rather, the kind who craved for another soul to celebrate the darkness that surrounded her in much the same way that we human beings celebrate the spark of light emitted by the fist lone star amidst a moonless night. She was the kind of woman whose beauty yearned to be unraveled, not as the sparkling magnificence that encumbered the northern star, but rather as the breathtaking infinite distance between the stars. The kind of woman who lit a cigarette and thirsted for the familiar tug at her lungs, who coughed just so that she could bring to life the familiar noises associated with her entombed father. She was the kind of woman whose soul ached to feel.