Photo by Lauren Conklin
I didn't die
because of pain
from razor blades
cutting my veins.
Instead, I had
a broken soul;
always so thirsty
of something more.
I couldn't do
the simplest task:
holding your ear
near to my heart.
There's nothing else
but crickets' sounds.
I'm leaving now;
I'll see you around.
About the Creator
Alex Torres
Started writing short stories back in 1988 at work, when I had an empty page to fill for the employee's internal magazine. Taking the pen again after a 30 year-long hiatus, exploring where it takes me this time.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.