Ɑnøthěr C̱håptěr ·˚ ༘ @s̱ɪɪɪɪɗɔ
He is ―an abyss, hidden behind waistcoats and empty wineglasses
and grey eyes that watch without blinking. His laughter is a closed
door; I hear it, but I will never see what’s inside. He is an entire uni-
verse, burning stars erupting inside this infinity of a man, conste-
llations rearranging themselves when no one is looking. I watch him
lean against the bar, bringing a cigarette to his lips; his fingers are
long, deliberate, like he’s sculpting the smoke into something.
He exhales, and there it is: a halo he doesn’t know he’s wearing. God,
I think, one lifetime is not enough to understand him. I could count
his freckles until my own bones turn to dust and still not name the
planets spinning in his orbit. Every truth he gives me feels like the
shadow of another. Every glance is a trick of the light. He does not
open. He unfolds, slow as a galaxy turning in the dark, each revela-
tion a century in the making. And still, I woul wait. I would spend my
whole life with my ear pressed to the night sky, just to
hear him breathe. ━━
tinyurl.com/2vkkwvfn ━━ ʍɿԺՌɿԳɧԵʍԾԾՌ
