Snakeish
Snakes take weeks to digest their prey. The swallowed animal has skin, muscle and bone to be dissolved, anyway.
I feel snakeish, if that word even exists. Processing something not that big, but still time consuming that inside persists.
Digesting feelings I take it slow. Heart swolle.
I hope it's chagas.
Fireworks
Like the color bombs against the dark skies, love explodes. Love is the very blast of brightness and sound, the grainny shapes and the printed memory. The duration varies, some explosions last a life time and some leave in a blink, but one way or the other it's hard to forget them.
And I remember each one. The first was a sad hue of blue, ressonating in my eyes and breaking my stillness. The second was a warm pink, flikering and forever falling, yet graciously. The third was red, then yellow, then purple, then black, melding with the night canvas and touching my face with its embers.
I still smell ash.
Smoke
He was drunk as a skunk but still managed to light his cigarrete in the stove fire. He leaned in the open fridge, thinking how proper it was to use the stove to light it and a fridge to ease the heat. There he heard Jennifer’s voice in his mind, mad at him and complaining about smoking inside, “This would be the least of your complains, Jenny my love.” he said to himself, as he started to sweat.
She was working at the club by this time as he thought and coughed because of the smoke. Her house was small in a quiet part of town and she fought bravely to pay the rent, maintaing the place, and, weeks prior, to see John gone. She knew somehow he was by no means the right guy.
“I will show you how ‘right of a guy’ I am, Jenny my love.” now he couldn’t ignore the heat nor cough. He could only think of how pretty and neat her house was before, how he wished he was not laying alone in the floor, and how stupid he was for spilling gasoline so near the damn door.