you see, whenever you fiddle your callused fingers unto that cellphone, you lead me to believe these wondrous charades of yours. even when you've watched me be cut and bruised, saw me be kissed and abused
your hands don't shiver when you type.
i should've known better than to run laps around your schemes.
you've held me like water in your hands and now that i'm a drought you're mourning me.
how more pathetic can i be? losing all shape in this world, somehow i still find myself on your porch like a house dog. i pattern soft dust on your doormat with my hushed bare feet and peek through the pet door until you open.
you're dressed in black which means there is in fact a funeral for me.
how unfortunate that i remained a mere beast until the end.
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