Blood. 

Crimson, shining, wet.

It pools around my feet, 

Weaving through the valleys of my toes.

Warm to the touch.

Beauty found in the form of creation:

I created this. I brought this to the surface. 

Allowed it to travel my hills and valleys;

Emotions running over my knees

Hate dripping off my thigh

Love contouring my wrists.

Power found in the smallest of object...

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Love. It concurs all they say.

It makes some happy, joyful, even ecstatic.

But for others; it rips, shreds, and stabs.

“Time to think,” he said. “I just need some time to think away from you.”

Those words: they don’t create joy. They stab like a knife. 

Piercing my skin and drawing blood to the surface. 

Heart pounding in my ears. Tears welling in my eyes.

“Oh. Ok.” 

I type...

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i look into the normally full sky: 

nothing.

i feel nothing,

see nothing,

hear nothing.

my thoughts cloud my vision.

will i ever feel the wind on my skin again?

will i ever see the rays of sunshine again?

will music ever penetrate this foggy facade?

the blue sky my eyes are used to is absent:

no clouds, 

no birds,

no sun.

the chirping is gone,

along with t...

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