farewell my black balloon.

the dark days are over, yet it's enthralling how our senses change, how our taste lingers. the little buds of abomination and jealousy rests in the back of our throats, tickling that miniscule ball that hangs in our throat like a sideways clock ticking and ticking and ticking and tick.

our vision decreases, the colorful pupils absorbing what's left of our darkness. our touch illuminates right through us, a sort of grip-less desolate numbing sensation. our smell lingers into the kitchen and onto the tabletops, and into boiling water and smoking bullshit crying for attention. and in between the crevice where our identity rests to conform us, where our nostrils hold its breath to memorize us, where our senses cave in to never forget us...we forget.

our eyes open in a room of darkness as we lick the salt off our lips, dehydrating our minds. our eyes beat to the silence of our touch so reminiscent we can't feel ourselves anymore, and the tapping of our feet becomes bitter as our reflection stares through.

alone in a room of darkness we remember. we remember the way you looked at us, the way you touched us, the way you inhaled us, the way you tasted us,
the way
    YOU
          tasted. alone in a room of darkness we remember.

farewell my black balloon, i was a heavy heart to carry. and if you may find me again let me be so over you, a sort of high i will never experience again. leave me here in the shadows and forget me in a room of light. the dog days are over.