by December Cobarde
Last Sunday I battered my faith into a million pieces and threw them in an ocean of theories hoping
the saltwater would be kind enough to restore them and bring them back to me
I saved some for my creator and sent a handful to the stars because I’ve been told we are made up
of the same matter that makes the universe
The Law of Attraction states that bodies made up of similar pure energies have the tendency to
attract their counterparts; this same energy had galaxies put in their place and meteors falling out of
It’s always been a battle of wonder and catastrophe since the beginning of time. They say angels
have strange inhuman faces but someone could have told me Attraction and Contradiction were
I don’t remember much from my Physics class but there has got to be a scientific explanation for
the way our combined flaws found each other that seem to have aligned themselves in a manner that
I hear sound travels faster in the dead of night and even if I didn’t get that right, maybe it’s why I
find myself drowning in your words induced from liquor that could cut and heal my cigarette burns
and open wounds as if alcohol intoxication only works in the dark. Then again, I’d probably be just
as addicted in broad daylight
We must have set something off in the balance of things when a whirlwind of lies turned to a
clashing of lips because how can the bringing of hands together pull our insides apart as if a collision
of stars had constellations bursting in a desperate attempt to crawl out of our skins?
Maybe science has nothing to do with it. Maybe the gods couldn’t give a shit.
But the night is young
our emotions, younger
And if the universe takes rustic subatomic particles to hinge lost souls together,
the dust has settled on our shoulders and I swear it was your name I heard them whispering.