a mirage. a kaleidoscope of every fabricated personality—crafted by flicking fluorescent lights and nicotine smoke—each one lacking consistency. I struggled for perfection—looking for criticism in every attentive glance. taking note of what worked and with who. my patience slipped like sand in a slanted hourglass— I began to let that all go— you claimed to have lost someone you never knew. you spit in my face from a decaying float on your pity parade. a thin veil of victim covered slick crocodile tears. jealousy bloomed from your palms tracing your veins in spider webbed moss
and I continue to move on
Like
Share
About the Creator
Jaina Nehm
I've wanted to pursue writing since I was five years old and it continues to be my dream, give it a read
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.