The Moth Diaries

You feel like you're thirteen again, with too big shoes, chicken legs and limbs that just won't fit, so you tuck them behind a pillar, scratching nervously at the peeling paint. You're all scissor smiles and phantom confidence and just as awkward as your dress shirt, that sticks uncomfortably in between your shoulder blades, mapping out your spinal cord.

"Maus, give me the fucking car keys." Yet you can't because this time... This time he's leaving and he's not coming back. So you curl your fingers around the metal tighter, trying to melt it through your skin.

"Maus..." and it's your last warning, your final goodbye, your last chance before he traps you with his body against the wall, before he comes at you with sharp elbows and painful embraces. Before he almost ends up breaking your fingers. Almost... But then instead he tears your world apart.

And when he leaves you watch him go, with eyes of a wounded animal, nervously chewing at your fingernails and barely breathing, barely there.

It's not like you loved him. You didn't, it's just without him you are a mere shadow ; colorless, weightless and your solid shape is just a farce.