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We wait in our room for the war to be over. We spoon beneath a hidden moon on a lake of frozen ice. From time to time it snows. From time to time we change our minds. Sometimes we’re lovers, enemies, strangers. Mostly a mixture of all three. When we fuck, she makes me choke her. Makes me squeeze my fingers around her throat until she can barely breathe and the tears roll from the corner of her eyes. When she looks up at me with her mouth wide open, I gaze at her teeth and think of all those days of my life now gone. Lost experiences. Scattered emotions. So many things I kept bottled inside that haunt me in the early hours of the morning when life is but a distant light on the horizon. And that horizon- how I see her dancing there like an angel drenched in the glow of a thousand Chinese lanterns that float in an ocean of night above her head.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com

18 replies »

  1. I always get a little lost in your language– it is like a rabbit hole that I fall down. “Sometimes we’re lovers, enemies, strangers” that feeling of unity but separateness even at our most intimate. And “So many things I kept bottled inside that haunt me in the early hours of the morning when life is but a distant light on the horizon” is a state I live in almost daily. Beautiful and sad and biting all at once.

  2. This has been the only place I can say things like that and not get looked at like I’m crazy! But do believe we belong to a tribe who see and experience the world differently and the more I embrace that side of myself the harder superficiality and small talk are and the more I say exactly what I’m thinking regardless of the odd looks. Thank for making misfit writers like us feel less alone in the twilight.

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