He was an unusual man, always counting sheep in his sleep
wearing little boy pajamas although he was 36. Poking needles in his skin hoping for another color, any color but red.
He was quite, hard to read I sat by him in a late night cafe and asked him his name, he told me he was mean and said to stay away.
Something about those big green eyes made me stay, I sat there all night long writing him notes in a worn out journal from home.
He told me about his mom and pills that taste of ash, I was aware of his problems but didn't dare ask.
Soon we were laughing and I saw his newly chipped teeth, I remembered the holes in his skin and wanted to be his friend, not because he was unusual but because
I had holes in mine too - A.a.g.c
About the Creator
Aleah cox
I am a poet, and artist. I write short stories and haikus, paint mythical beings and create characters, this is my specialty and I love doing it.
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