Prequel: http://mikecab.multiply.com/journal/item/355/Ordinaire
Then in your tiredness, fallen, you drifted to sleep.
In gentle breaths, it was as if your advocacies and hypocricies were non existent. I watched as light gave way to dusk and the night, and stars shone upon the sullied walls, the empty streets we used to haunt. With every breath, vapor seen on cold nights, and the rise and fall of your chest, the sweat drying, slick oil that shines in faded starlight. Your hand beneath your head, and another on your stomach's arch. Fingers, stained in spray color, and the scent of paint and perspiration wafting through the air. In that moment, beyond your words and our hopeful wishes, beyond our ironies and faults, was the silence I dared to break.
I know I've said not much, but know that now, as I speak, I know precisely what to say.
You. You are my frustration. This. This is my sublimation. I loved you, whoever you were, and whoever you would turn out to be. I loved you beyond the words, the art, and the anarchy.
