Fragments pt. 1 - cabin fever

A heart that swells with pigments of impossible blues. Emptiness has handed me its gloves to engrave a shadow into the suffocating air. The fireplace spits embers onto our hiking clothes. We listen to each other's thoughts echo through the cabin. Words to shard through the silence. A cat with knowing paws creeps into the warmest arms. It burrows into him and stares at me from a distance further than space. You cannot grip onto my skin tonight. I'll crumble to ashes and make love to smoke. Purrrrrr - it nuzzles its head in a safety net. An accusatory stare. I decide to shower to wash off the anguish. The kettle is filled with month old water, but water is immortal and I am not. He pets the cat and stares into the fireplace longingly. No words can slaughter this departure. I miss indulging in meaningless sentences that possess no evidence for remarks of retaliation. It's true, sometimes you forget to remember yourself, and he'll forget he ever wanted to remember you. 

- sage