Flaps and straps from the jacket slapped back and forth making a fluttering sound like the wings of a bird beating against breast. I took a deep inhale of smells ranging from the basement of an old country farmhouse to peanut-butter and jelly. You can't kill me, I've died one hundred times before. I live in the past, lost sight of the present, and know of little future. Not fit to fall in love, I shower in a rain of despair, bask in the fog that fills the air.
Misery needs no company.
No one knew what the cats did at night as the candles burned a lovely light. Eve swooned by a kiss wishes she were made of clay. My tears are mere reflections of the flowery earrings on her dresser. Opossums hang in the trees where birds once sang, bats fluttering about with insects in their mouths, cats scream in pain as they declare their territorial reigns. With your arm and face resting on my chest, and short gentle breaths, I hadn't the heart to disturb you in your rest.