Author S. K. Nicholas

The broken window, and the rain that splashes through it onto our hands. A lit cigarette that falls to the dirty floorboards. Torn curtains and traces of blood. Fingerprints in dust. As the clock unticks while you brush your hair, I take off my clothes and stand naked before the mirror. The veins in my arms enlarged, atoms dance in the space between us. Hills outside the window, distant and not there. Take off that dress I say, and as the wind slips in from beneath the door, there are no reasons left to stay. So many things I’m supposed to remember, yet my mind is untethered. You don’t create, you just discover, and this cheapens all acts that follow. Downstairs is flooded, the basement sunken. Rusty nails and damp leaves. Eyes of the soul, from my tongue to yours. Written in symbols, the meaning of my life scattered behind me. Under streetlights where we used to kiss, trees keep our secrets, they keep it all in. A glass of beer as you paint your face. Books thrown away through the fear of what truths might be revealed. The universe between your toes. A Cyclops to keep you safe at night while I sit and write. None of this makes sense, but that’s when you know you’re doing it right.