I went up the attic yesterday, and I
called your name. You weren’t there. So I
scrolled through, the endless posts,
in which I thought I had inscribed your presence
you weren’t there.
My Watson, he makes a mockery out of everything I say. His lips part and meet, subsequently exposing and concealing his slightly crooked teeth. I stretch out my fingers to teasingly brush the three inflamed stripes on his lower jaw. He backs away, shocked, and I know I’ve crossed an invisible line. I’ve touched him… Continue reading He Makes a Mockery Out of Everything I Say