Quiet. The spirit is quiet; I'm too tired to fight for now. The hurt is not yet gone, but is subdued for now, until I can think of a better "plan". Yesterday I could not cry, so the rain did it for me. I stood outside in the dark and the rain, letting the rich, hot, and damp clay aroma waft up to me while my eyes looked up and let rain drops fall directly into them. It didn't even hurt. I even giggled. I need to smile more, but I can't act a smile anymore. I stopped caring. I need a way to become truly happy. I'm starting to look older because I can't lift the weight of my own face.
A wave, and then
Another.
A sharp desire,
A drifting
Longing.
A white Sensation,
leaves him weak.
Warmth.
Return soon.
Survival is not
A
Guarantee.
But,
Passion is
Passion is
Torture.
A Touch.
Is all I
Ask.
Still
Selfish.
Am I?
I'm Lost.
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