Bother

She.

She just sat there, all alone for an instant. I had no other choice but to go and talk to her, to try and break this ackward bubble that She had blown between us. I think the ''pop'' woke her up from the dreams she had, lost in her mind.

-I'm sorry, I don't want to bother.
-You're not.
-How are you? I mean, how's school, how's work?
-Everything's fine, really.

I meant to ask her other things, to let go of those Whys that were tearing my insides, that were making pieces out of my memories, but nothing other than those few words cam out of my mouth. Her eyes were a little bit less shiny than before.

-I won't bother you any longer.

I don't know what I meant. If I was just putting an end to the conversation, or to the entire relationship. I guess it really doesn't mather, after all.

Murder he wrote.

Me
Sometimes I'm scared that when I'll be done writing you on these pages we won't be able to spend these moments anymore. I don't want to lose you. So I'm wondering if I should stop all of this now, stop tracing those letters to keep whatever is left of your perfume, of your smile.
She
You'll only have to read yourself, and I'll come back to you, we'll be together for a few hours. I'll feel your soft hands holding the book, your finger tips running accross my pages.
Me
I'm sorry. The more I ink you, the more I kill you. Can you feel my pen scorching your back, piercing your eyes? Your body is covered in ink and I can't touch you.
She
You're thinking too much. To die in your arms is all I'm asking for.

Ghost

Her kiss still lingers on my lips.

She.

Maybe she didn't lean over me, maybe she woke up when she heard my voice, realizing I wasn't the one she thought I was. Maybe none of this happened, and I invented all of this in my head so I could have a new story to tell. It might just be a dream.

But now there's no way of knowing. She ran away, while staying by my side. She just smiles, and I have no questions left for her. Sometimes it's not worth the trouble to know the truth.

the End.

She.

That's all I can write after what happened last night. Words have no meaning anymore. I can't write French. That part of me is long gone.

It all started with the end. That's usually how it is. She finished her sentence and through her lips I could hear her silence. She was waiting for something I just could not give her. Her smile burnt my eyes and rendered me blind. She was too much, and I was no one.

So I ran. Without turning back.

Hole in my soul

When I woke up she was standing beside the bed looking at me. I had no clue just for how long her eyes had been running on my sleeping body but when I moved my head I think I woke her up from her dream.

There was a pile of shoes underneath her bed, left behind by their owners that couldn't stay. I looked at her, through my half closed eyes. I would have fallen in love with her at that moment, with her mysterious smile if only she hadn't been holding a drill in her hands.

On the night table, the letter I wrote her the day before slowly finished burning.