silence.

i don’t know what to write.. i don’t know why melancholy drapes itself upon my skin like laundry pulled from a broken dryer. its cold seeps into my bones and arrests my ability to hold onto anything as a belief.

i don’t know why i can’t just ask you when i need to be held.. and why i wait, so hopeful that you will notice the gaping void, and attempt to cross it. i remember being very small, waking from another bout of night terrors, and trying to scream, hearing my mother’s footsteps as she shuffled to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, yet it felt as if my vocal cords were cut. the more i tried, the less sound came out. why couldn’t i scream? why couldn’t i tell her i needed her?

this is much the same..i ache for the cup of your palm along the curve of my cheek. i ache to be able to ask you why my shelf life has seemed to run out.. but my vocal cords are cut.. and i cannot scream

Reviews

[Mr.Boffin]

amazing...very sad......great write!

[MAC]

wow...so sad and so very well written

[alan khan]

Simple and heart breaking.. This is insanely well written great job.

[Sami Khalil]

A splendid read and write...Thank you for penning...:).....................