All the pretty girls

Feels like Paris the last few days. We walked from back streets to the light. We walked with nods and small conversation. I missed her hand, so fragile and warm under colorful mittens. I walked home, alone, and alone again.
She found me sitting there, staring vaguely at glowing boxes, and saying twisting things to mutual friends. Her face reminded me of a film I once saw about Iceland. And so it was that she left, and I stared again at glowing boxes. I’ll wait as I miss the corners of her mouth.
Katherine fell too quickly, too soon. Her hair is a blur, her laughter marked in hazy shades of memory. Katherine fell too quickly, and I had to walk away. Staggered, alone, cold, the cigarettes of constellations. My breath was white and hurried as the rain slick streets turned to ice.
Feels like Paris the last few days, I thought, as I shut the door to my lonely room.

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One thought on “All the pretty girls

  1. This was one of the best writes I’ve read this year. You have incredible talent and are using it wisely.

    May God bless you with your writing career.

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