The sound of scratching

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He hid his face. “Please, don’t look at me”. Tears filled my eyes, and I thought about the world. Silence followed, as I watched the sun set in the east. “It ain’t always easy”. A heavy sigh left my lungs, and flew to heaven along with the birds. If there was a factories collecting pain, my sighes would fill its shelf.

His head turned down, watching the yellow and red leaves that fell from yesterday’s trees. His silence lingers, as does my fondness. I think about the smooth surface of his hair as my fingers glide through it, but know I’ll never get the chance again.

I scratch surfaces long gone. I try to bring them alive, by seeing them when they aren`t there. It is my manipulation of reality, that never soothes or bring me anything other than pain when I see there is nothing there.

Have you ever tried to touch something that isn`t there?



One thought on “The sound of scratching

    lexborgia said:
    October 28, 2014 at 11:47

    Hi MG! Your sites are confusing; I thought this one was dead – I had moved to the other one(Abusers are…) which never seemed to work. OK, I’ll stay in touch through this one. Cheers.

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