That suicide note. so much fun.

No draft.
Being lifeless took its own course.


                                                          damaged.
                                                                                         

A Verb, Baby.

love love is a verb

love is a doing word

fearless on my breath

gentle impulsion

shakes me, makes me ligher
fearless on my breath

teardrop on the fire

fearless on my breath

*

T

H

A

N

K

S

*

Laughter Over The Unfortunates

                The carcasses of their memories laid with the forgotten deck of cards. The abandoned game was continued in the blurry conversation they were having. He decided to put his hand on her leg, and she understood it wasn't malicious. 'twas comfort for a blade cut that was healed. But still vivid. Memories she could recount without ever changing the details. 

It became less painful the more they talked about it. The rise and fall of their breaths, unheard, but seen.

That girl heard the boy's sigh of resignation from the game that was slowly becoming uninteresting. He lifted his head, put it near her face. A sign, that the both of them have got painful stories to tell that night.

"My dad, is very strict, until now" Said he. "I remember my brothers and I were playing trump cards when my dad came in the room and he told us that we should only play these on special occasions." He chuckled.

And he gave the girl an idea that that situation was funny. So she laughed, because in the part where she grew up in, playing a deck of cards(no gambling) were a normal, harmless thing for kids.So she grinned.

"Well, my dad used to hit us. My sister and I had a petty fight. We were screamin', shoutin at each other. My sister was complaining about me to my dad, then my dad. Without the slightest hesitation,  fuckin slapped my sister's  face with the back of his hand." She shivered with the vivid embarrassment her sister felt. "You could feel the pain, I knew it was that painful, you couldn't forget the sound."

"I regretted having fought with her, for her to be hit like that by my father was so pitiful." She continued.

His face was sad. But she suddenly said, "It's ok, my dad was on drugs that time." She smiled cause she knew they were all safe now. She relaxed and he laughed a little more over the expected reaction.

He laughed more, it wasn't sad. He actually thought it was funny.
"Why are you laughing?" she asked.

"In my country, that thing is so hard to believe. Drugs in our country are so scary, trying to have a little taste of it is even taboo." So the laugh faded, she was a little enlightened. His laugh was innocent, she admired his smile. His fingers crawled into hers, they held hands with the idea that they both had weird memories.

He searched in his e-dictionary. Satisfied, he said, "My dad and I battled over many things."

"Please use , "argue" instead of "battle." as she cut him off.
He nodded as a sign of thanks, the usual gesture between them.

"He brought me, locked me up in our farm's rice stock house." He wiggled and acted like he was banging a door, "let me out, please, let me out!! I said. I was always brought there. My body being lifted into the stockhouse was so scary. My dad was serious..."

She laughed and laughed. She basically thought it was funny. His gesture was funny. He was smiling as he was telling her the story. It gave her the idea, again, everything he said was funny.

"My grandmother or my mother, would bring me rice bowl every night I would do the stockhouse prisoner. You know the rice bowl, I ate it silently inside the stockhouse. Then they will tell me that they will now open the door."
 He cupped his hands to mimic the shape of the rice bowl.

"My dad, would always be asleep if my grandma or my mom decided to bring me home.It was scary."

The girl and the boy laughed together. Looked at each other, without words they understood that once they were unfortunate in their own childish standards.

They laughed some more until the steady breathing of their own bodies were the only ones creating a perfect rhythm  in a world that was once chaotic, they were once children.

The cards, the childhood memories. We were young, yes we once were.