frayed miles.

Woman in Gray Shirt in Bed Painting
from Pexels;

I fell to the way your upper lip collides with its lower rim when you speak of my name and problem. I searched through your words and the same hollowness our eyes had to calm my irrationalities. As my doctor, we were only supposed to schedule the sessions, but you were to help me recover from below.

But I stopped rescheduling the cancelled dates of our next sessions.

Once, you told me if I could not breathe the way you wanted me to, I would just have to lie down and close my eyes on my own; to think and live far from the sorrows—miles from you.

So, I played with the timeless sound of the heavy rain outside and lay on the center of my torn mattress. I stared at the frayed ceiling and thought of you until I forced my lungs not to breathe you any longer.

Until I hoped I would die remembering you.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.


let me hold your words before you leave;

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