Author S. K. Nicholas

Our love went to the boneyard, and that’s where it now resides. It’s cold and lonely, like a beaten dog forced to spend the night outside in the rain, or an abused daughter losing herself in the maze of her mind. The days are gray; just like the sky and the seas that lap the scorched shores. Trying to fall asleep as someone down the street drunkenly howls to the moon, I remember suckling an ex-lover’s breast while she gave me handjob after handjob to a soundtrack of quiz shows they always used to show in the early hours. Sometimes I watched them when I couldn’t sleep, but most of the time they just provided the room with a little light so we could see what we were doing without the glare of the bulb above our heads that only shattered our intimate illusions. There are seagulls talking to me as I stand by the harbour, but their cries don’t touch me. Nothing touches me, not anymore. These words, they itch my skin, but their meaning is lost somewhere in the back of my cracked, obscure skull. Maybe it’s the drink, or in the neverending search for something I’m not even sure exists. My past is incidental. It comes and goes like the pain in my toes. This island; this country of soil and of thought- how it drags me down despite my best efforts to not be like the rest of them. It’s been going on for years, but sooner or later, all things must come to an end. Sooner or later, the truth must out. Our hearts have been eclipsed for so long, but this celestial dance wasn’t meant to last forever.