Wednesday, February 25

books for little kings.

...and I sat there on the cold floor of the shower, the hot water burning my skin red. My hair sticks to my face, my head leaning against the wet. There is an old, familiar but sad tune playing in the background, and I wondered where it was coming from. After minutes felt like hours, I gave in to the running water trickling across my skin. Then I went blind. All I know is that we began to dance, and I felt your warmth as I always had. My head feels light, and my arms are gone. There is a soft murmur of whispers trailing my cheek and my neck, words I did not understand. I could not see, still, but I wished more than anything that every drop that fell would take an inch of me with it down the drain, till I am gone and all that is left is my empty space that contains no memories.

No comments:

Post a Comment