Kajoule

I remind myself a lot Of the little things that never really matter. The silent whisper in my head Reminding me of everything that ever was And ever will be. Simply existing Like notes on a refridgerator door, Always there Only to be looked at, But never seen. It's times like this when I worry most About nothing in particular.

    Picture it; a rugged mountainside threatening to throw you in a downwards spiral like a rag-doll. Looking below, an ever-so-placid lake displays a facade, disarming you of your fear while you are in war with your former love, now the enemy. My heart raced. I huddled into a makeshift fort, maybe ten feet square and four feet high, and the only weapon I had was a sharpened branch I acquired from a nearby tree. He was near, I could see the charcoal in his sweater peering from the evergreens. In his hand he held a bough from a recently deceased oak. He could definitely take me down in one simple cadence if he wanted to. I had to get out fas