August142009
133. The wind was the only sound in my room. It grazed my arms from time to time and kissed the panels on walls. The room stayed silent. At times I would hear rustling from the other rooms on the second floor. Words continuously sent through technology into her heart. From what I’ve been hearing which isn’t much is He’s devoted to her. His heart is stitched onto her sleeve. His adulation continues to cultivate. From the LCD screen she sees his smile. Sometimes it widens when she transmitted the right words. Touch wasn’t a need for them. In a way I hoped she’d stop continuing her endeavors. Because these endeavors hurt me every single waking day. Knowing that his heart doesn’t belong to me and knowing that I’m never good enough to get an acknowledgement from the port world.
