ivy

running my fingers over the arms of the tiny chairs we sit in, i simultaneously think about the physical texture of touch and the way she fidgets. something is telling me that we're not as empty as we perceive ourselves to be, at least not in this very minute, finite space of time. all i can experience is the slow decay of everything around and within us.

truth and lies, hidden under masks of ambiguity and false pretenses.

i close my eyes and see beauty.