So, I realize I haven't submitted in a long time. Each of these is it's own little separate piece.
When people run past me, I could feel the breeze, even if they just walked past, feel the swish of their clothes, the scent of their cologne, the wisp of their soul, but when you passed me I felt nothing. I stared at you, you seemed to float a level above this mortal world, and then I realized that it wasn't you. It was me.
You pinned the small butterflies to the cork board and I watched their scales fall off as they tried to struggle. I didn't say anything and you didn't say anything. We just sat, two little butterflies, pinned down.
I found you both out the very first day, and maybe it was me, with my cat whiskers feeling the air of the day and the tightness I found between you two, or maybe it was you two, handwriting and art intertwined. Either way, my claws found a way of tangling the both of you together and I'm satisfied with how the end results are.
There was never a wind, never a want, never a waste, never a wait, never a bait. There was never a you, never a me, never a she, never a they or a we or an us. There was never anything, and I suppose that's how none of us like it.
You said shut the door darling, this snow isn't good for you. I thought, shut the relationship darling, this thing isn't good for you. But I smiled and hid the knife.
He said it was possible to have a big ego and little self esteem. She mulled it over while eating white chocolate and playing with her hands. He smiled and told her she did and she laughed.
We each have our underlying names, the things no one knows, the innocence lost, the sad eyes, the hidden stares, and the deep glares from our soul wanting to come out. Names of hate, love, violence, sadness, the names of us, all of us, not just what people can see. Eyes and hearts only go so far.