You can hear plants scream when you're pulling them apart if it is quiet enough

There’s an odd contentment in being alone.

The quietness provides for a comforting cast.

Who said alone has to be a throb story from  ninth grade?

Probably me from the past.

I’ve realized that echoes, are actually emphasis of a better understanding.

The singular triangle tube light provides the brightest of light.

The smell of new books produces just the right ecstatic sound.

The slow gushes of spurting wind sometimes fills us with a melodic sight.

If the sky was pixelated, where would we stand?

Would you see as clear as a short sided man?

The only question arising that where would the privilege go.

The loudness of that chaos, should you long for a slimmer quietness. 

In your story, you might be his fan.

The stars standing apart, probably wondering how baseless our saddening solus is.

For they’re always alone.

“We’ve learnt to enjoy the vacuum subtlety,

We stand at a distance yet unchanged from forming a constellation.

If they don’t function separately, who are we to pick apart your bone?”