Storms in sunset

Leaving felt like sending my heart a drunken text: a fuck-it-all that was uncomfortable in the wake, as naked as raindrops trickling along skin when he dropped me and my broken umbrella by the doorstep.

Footprints on the mat, and words so soft they dribbled into socks, and slipped through my soles like echoes.

I heard them resonate: while ripples widen, circling their predecessors, his letters shrank and when I tried to catch each escaped breath, I could only hear my own ears beating red and black: the aftermath of storms in sunset, a beautiful kind of ache.


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