Story

Uncertain's picture

Dawn already, still dark in this room or is the window a little tinted? An enjoyable night, his eyes look a little tired of insomnia. I turn around to embrace the double bed alone. Will he at this moment early in the morning join me for coffee? He is not him after all, still after love, I heard him say 'we are so similar'. What a curse, for what he lacked, I know once again I couldn't give to him.

Perhaps it is all an excuse to set aside the righteous path of trying. So there is nothing left to say. Tears are vain but they are not speechless silence. Do not give me comfort now, because I find the hypocrisy beautiful. I had promised I would only go back when my bones are clean.

There is nothing left to say.