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Writer's picturethewritingmuse

never colliding,

Updated: Dec 25, 2021

'What does genesis feel like?' they ask:

I say— sometimes, a reticent prayer, other times, a voluble birdsong. A hushed lullaby hummed to soothe a newborn, or the timidity of a first kiss. It feels like 5 o'clock on a summer morning when the sky bleeds into pinkish gradients and you're looking out at the vast horizon of something that starts feeling like forever— it feels like no periods awaited at the end, just the warmth and tenderness between us that kept going and going and...


'What does resolution feel like?' they ask.

Remnants of my memories of you resembled the graffiti sprawled across my bathroom wall. Turbulent, chaotic, but raw and real nonetheless. They said I couldn't seem to separate my dreams from reality. You seemed like the former, but the song etched in my head like a chiseled marble since the 21st proved that you were otherwise. I found myself frequenting its melody until my head bled dry, and if it weren't for the gravity that eternally and perfectly nestled between the gaps of our breadth, we wouldn't have been forever orbiting one another. Your name bore a resemblance to coldness, but I was completely absorbed in the warmth and tenderness between us that was supposed to keep us going and going and...


Something, somewhere was dying slowly in the outer reaches of space. 'What does resolution feel like?' they ask again. I say— sometimes it's skipping rocks across the lake, other times, it's trying to wrap your arms around a fleeting gust of wind. A feeble attempt to hold a ghost in something other than memory;

—it feels like love harshly yawned before saying, 'I took what I wanted, what's left is for you...'


September 27, 2021 Painting by unknown

A song added on a Spotify playlist pushed me to finish this months-old draft-no-more.





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