skin

a tale of the city of berlin

a short but kind story
some may say it was love
some may say it wasn't
but here stands the question, bravely: what is love, even?

as i sat there on the wooden bench i saw time fly around me
i held someone's hands and told them all about me
the night fell onto us
it was cold
we hugged

time froze.
i felt sick
adrenalin rushing into my blood
what was that?
i felt compelled to tell him about my life
''i don't know why i trusted you but i knew that i could '' allen, lilly
as we walked around the mysterious and savage city
the night ate us for dinner
almost fulfilled, almost empty

purely vanity
a mere fantasy between what life is and what it could be
the perfect seasoning
the perfect bite
the perfect match


it was like sleeping after being awake for weeks
like having a gallon of water after being thirsty for 4 hours
like eating chocolate after craving it for a week
like taking a deep breath after not being able to breath

the right thing in the right moment.
at ease
finally

but that won't stick
it has to come to an end like all things do

i hate ending things.
i hate goodbyes.
they make me anxious
they make my heart pound in my chest and i frown
i never know what to say at the end
i never know what to do at the end

is it real
or is it just a dream?