notmaryjane

“Life is just one of those things, you have to taste it to believe it,” from his lips, a virtual origami swan swam between them, creating more space than lucidity. Her silent response hung there nasty and purple like a bruise. Eloquence had never been her style, and her face felt hot despite her chilling secrets. Drinking in her sentiment, his mouth and stomach overflowing with the seldom seen and never heard mysteries that composed her. Now, she drinks it, too. They both came to realize that it was not, in fact, about being known, but rather about knowing. It was not about what was spoken, but rather, what was im