One week later
Well how did it feel?
It felt like, when he died, a part of him died with him.
And of course, that meant a part of me died too.
A beautiful stranger sat by me one day,
On a train going nowhere with clouds full of rain.
He looked at my face with a large gaping smile,
And we sat in this curious state for a while.
On and on he continued to gape,
Where his heart used to be was some old sticky tape.
When he opened his mouth I heard a soft groan
His hair was like ashes his eyes were like stone.
All of a sudden his hand clasped mine,
His fingers stayed straight like parallel lines.
A beautiful stranger led me out of the train,
And I never took any sort of train again.
I am not smart enough.
Bye Tumblr.
It was nice trying to be quirky and literary and all, but I have to get back to real life.
Why would you want to leave me in my last day at Melbourne so miserable.
I guess I will just stay at home, and do nothing, and waste my last day like this.
Listening to your heart can be easy. It’s only made difficult when other people tell you things that sound almost like your heart. But your heart only murmurs a sound unique to you.
Two people have asked for my address to send things to. It’s funny, I know some of them are closer to other people in Melbourne. Am I the go to person here? I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Lindt macaron
Bouche. A cafe at Knox.
