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you never left
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It's the little things that tell the difference but many times there's no observer to notice them Little things like ignoring all the beer in the fridge and going straight for the cupboard where the tea bags stood untouched for years Chamomile Caramel Pear A fine combination He took out one little bag and filled the kettle with water and placed it on the electric stove and looked out the window while waiting for the steam to whistle Rainy weather outside Overcast weather inside, in his heart Also he had no smokes left and no one to smoke them with so he took the lighter from inside his pocket and lit it against the glass of the window and said to the flame, "You said you'd leave. But you never left. It was a lie. Else why do I feel you closer now than when your body stood right next to mine? Doesn't make sense. You never left…" The glass started to blacken around the flame and he retreated it "You never left," he said. "You are so close now and had taken over so much of my mind that I started doing the things you loved and I hated." The kettle whistled behind him He turned around. "You never left…"
Testosteron
ヽ（゜ω゜○）ノ English translation HERE!
Two Bullets
By Bogdan Dragos
she came out of the bathroom with
the pink towel wrapped
around her and found
him sprawled on the bed
very thoughtful
He held in his right hand
two bullets
that he constantly rubbed against each
other with a kind
of obsession
She jokingly said, “So, one for me
and one for you?”
“No,” he said. “One for everyone else in
the world but you and I.”
“Haha, nice,” she said. “Anyway, why do you
always carry those bullets
around?”
“Eh, no particular reason,” he lied
The bullets carried all the
reasons in the world. He
carried them in his pocket ever since seventh
grade when he was mere
steps away from using them on his
bullies
But then
one day
she just showed up and was nice
to him
and the depression became a little less heavy,
just enough to be carried through
the years of…
View original post 125 more words
we gotta spend more time together
“I was ten years old,” she said, her head resting on my shoulder. “And the flames covered the damn sky. Though our neighbor was actually lucky. Lucky I didn’t burn his house. I mean, motherfucker had it coming. You don’t run over a girl’s puppy and expect to get out scratch free, you know?” “I too had a neighbor who ran over my puppy with his tractor,” I said. “I think I was also around ten.” “And what did you do about it?” she asked “Nothing,” I said “What? But how?” “Like I said, I was just some insignificant kid from the countryside. All I could do was cry.” “My God,” she said, “that’s so fucking lame. Where’s that neighbor of yours today?” “I’ve no idea. Perhaps he’s dead. He was pretty old when it all happened.” “If that’s the case then you have the duty to go piss on his grave. At least.” “Um… I wouldn’t know where that is. And besides, I learned to forgive.” “That’s what the weak say. What kind of man are you?” “One who doesn’t hold grudges?” She sighed. “We gotta spend more time together.” “And learn from one another?” I asked She didn’t reply
Daydreaming as a profession 