Prose, Prosetry

11:46 PM – Bela Sanchez

11:46 PM – Bela Sanchez (instagram)


all i went in to do was turn off the light, but then i saw them. all those pieces of me that you’ve been taking away, so small that i don’t notice each one until i see the gaping hole in my chest. i’m no brick wall, but you still have the uncanny ability to break me down. i don’t know what i’m writing, but i have to write something, anything, to fill this void, because tea and breathing exercises aren’t working. i’m sorry i get so stuck-stuck-stuck on words but i’ve heard if you say something enough it stops having any meaning. no matter how many times i write “i-miss-you”, it still sounds desperate. every rule has its exception. i’ve grown too accustomed to saying “i’m just tired”, when what i mean is “i am sad and i don’t know why.” but i haven’t slept in nine days and i’m living off coffee-induced dreams and trying to grasp some shred of exhaustion, so i think it’s a fair excuse. i can’t seem to remember how it feels to be so passionate about something that you fall unquestioningly into it each night. we’re driving so fast and i’m begging you to go faster because i want to know how the stars sound at the speed of light. i want to know how much it would burn if i got too close to the sun because I’m not suicidal but i might be staricidal. i can’t wrap my head around the edges of this universe and i can’t wrap my head around you. i wonder what the stars look like when they’re falling asleep.


2 thoughts on “11:46 PM – Bela Sanchez

  1. I love you. Or, more to the point, I love your writing. Get some sleep, says the kids who’s halfway across the world, 7 hours ahead of you in time, writing at 2 am. In all seriousness, post some more, I love what you’ve written.


  2. A Scot winning the match director, stops by foor a resurrection, but now they
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