Classification: Prose
Theme: Love
Synopsis: Broken men were made for soldiers dressed in sundresses having a romantic war with bitter bones, and skin of battle that births affection as a weapon to protect ruined heart of stones.
I remembered the day when you asked me about boys. I breathed no air that lost minute, certainty laid far beyond my bones. My fingers however, typed a word unsure but decided to make its leave. Some seconds latterly, an afterthought approached; misunderstood. Then my mind leaped through ages where I was reversely counting the days where I had to scribble thousands of words just to stumble into a confession, with lots of misplaced metaphors—some would go beyond the twilight shore with storm and soon after, it would be clinging on the leaves of summer. My ghosts who dreamt to sing boys poetic kisses, evanesced with confusions because of their inconsistent versers.
'I think boys are all the same. They are bored and sad of being bored and sad and girls are of mystery they have yet to unravel. When solved, patience would be dissolved and everything would play on repeat.'
That was not exactly what you heard from me for I was clueless about you that unremembered second. Your pride stood still and told me you were different and sure, I harkened. But I found out that you were incompletely not; for you are a man of contrary but not different from them. You were always broken like the body of a tree, bold but afraid of weapons. And sure you were different, for you were a broken man made to disagree with love but could not escape it.
Published by: Ysabella Charis Vaila
Date Published: January 24, 2022
Time published: 5:22 pm
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