• thousand_splendid_thoughts 10w

    It's fiction.

    Achromatic means colourless.
    Abendrot is the red colour of the sky around the time of sunset.

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    There are days when I want to
    become someone's poem,
    that thought which dances in their mind
    when they see abendrot kissing the sky
    and that atmosphere which even lulls chaos to sleep.

    My lover's shirt smells of my friend's perfume
    and I daily take drags of that smell to exhale
    another heartbreak poem.
    His eyes whisper to me a one-liner
    "I can't make you my poem,
    but I will surely give you mad topics
    to write one, darling"

    I am not a thought, I am a number saved
    with no red heart attached at the end of the name
    in my lover's phone.
    His fingers immediately peck my number
    carelessly and sends out a message to me
    whenever his sky goes achromatic.

    My lover's lips nibbles where my neck ends
    and then lingers on the shoulder blades protruding
    from my skin which today's generation goes gaga over
    but for my lover it's a sunken space where he can daily
    gag out chaos whenever he leaves the bed beside me cold at 3 am and goes back to his 'happy place'.

    Maybe I am meant to be like this only,
    collecting heartbreaks to join poetry.

    ©thousand_splendid_thoughts