karma

is the part where we pour. we sacrifice. we give. we return. we offer, in exchange of nothing. to grasp on nothing in return to fulfill that feeling in the chest, that bliss, that weightlessness once the want, the need, was expressed.

karma is cruel. the breeze on his hair everyday. his relaxing thought. a shiver in each stroke of his brush on the canvas. a cat he wished purring in his lap. at this point, karma is a god. and he don't know if it's good or bad. but he knows so well, that it's so good and so bad at the same time.

karma is you.

green is your favorite. he thought it to be a farce. but oh, he was green in envy at every kiss offered to you from another. the green that coiled around your neck like a twinkling leash winking at him.

thank you.

he loved the way your eyes shimmered when you said it. and so he did more. earn the same two words over and over, offer favors over and over, a man to the rescue over and over without even the need the word help. an active observer over and over.

he's karma at this point. and it brought you joy, so why waste the opportunity? what's there to lose? what's there to be ashamed of? there is nothing wrong living in this one-sided rainbow he made as a leprechaun. there's nothing wrong.

because at the end, he'll be the one lying— the man with a barred heart.