Relics of you have never made sense to me. But then, I still have them placed inside my cupboard, and I feel they went there and would never come back like you. I have been moving around the city with strings of my guitar that I pluck everytime I stand by the pole telling people stories. Then I stretch the strings quite hard and then pluck them producing a high note to end the story with a perfect cadence.
Streetlights have not been in use recently. You told me to move to the town with the other people because you knew the town won't come to me. But then how about your grave that lies next our house with dead jasmines from October, 2018. It frightens me that how could they not flow away with the rain and the wind but then I feel it is possible. Things we love are stitched to us, our heart and body. Like you loved those jasmines and they are attached to you, your grave but then I loved you too. You reside in the voids of my heart but the void seems growing and the inclination is in all possible directions of my body making me feel as if you are engulfing me.
The stories I tell to people have started fading out of my neurons. All that is homed is you. But then the demon visited me yesterday night with a bottle of Old monk, we clinked our glasses and talked until breakfast and he devoured my soul in his lunch. Now that I live in him does that mean I cheated you?
It's dark here inside but all I could process is you. There are skulls and then there are beheaded humans eating in skull made dishes. And the food is red. I haven't seen a world so red and yet dreadful. It isn't a town. You now reside in hell within me. Does it feel the same?