52 | midnight sin

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What if I could just disappear into the moon, dissolve into the clouds and dissipate into the stars until all evidence of my existence have been wiped off of the face of the earth.

What if the ground could speak for me, my footsteps rising from the concrete ground and my words tracing themselves back onto paper.

I've grown to be fluent in heartache but he's illiterate in sympathy. And so betrayal wraps around my throat and he's holding the rope until you plead for sweet relief that only a prick into the neck can offer.

You're dripping wet with sin and no amount of rain can seem to wash away it's pungent scent that seems to linger into the air. You plead for the relief of the morning light but your sins only seem to weigh the night down.

And after what felt like forever trapped into a night of reminiscing memories you thought you'd long burnt and its bittersweet thrill, you awaken in the dawn with bloodshot eyes and sunken bones.

That's when you become too heavy for yourself to carry. That's when the air becomes all too heavy to breathe. When you've drowned your pillows in your saltwater tears and the sky has robbed your heart once more.

Perhaps the moon would be so kind enough to settle the tides in between your lids. Perhaps the stars would be so kind enough to fill the gaps between yours bones. And perhaps the clouds would be so kind enough to lift the weight off your chest. The universe can be kind enough, if you just let it.

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