M.

i don't remember much of that night. eyes and lashes, a scent of leather and honey, and an asymmetry so well balanced it could even out all the bumps and bruises, the scratches and scars...

but i remember: that night my head ached for the first time. oh, it wasn't my first headache. i've had headaches before: because i'd drink too much, because i didn't drink enough, because i hadn't eaten enough. never because i had eaten too much. but that headache

it hasn't gone since.

it's still there, somewhere behind my eyes, right there, in the middle of everything. i can't feel it, but it's still there. and the dumb absence of the real thing tortures me more than the sharp pang that would

at least make me cry.