I blink at the pale ceiling. Once, twice and again. But it doesn’t change.
Though the storm has passed, the wind no longer screams through the windows, the shadows have gone to rest, and he is not here.
He is not anywhere.
And yet, why do u feel him everywhere?
His scent is still lingering in the folds of my sheets, his het is till haunting the hollow between my thighs, and my lips feel bruised where his name might still echo if I listen closely.
I haven’t slept a wink. I couldn’t bring myself to. Not with these stupid emotions dancing like devils beneath my ribs. What has be done? What have I allowed him to do?
The freaking silence is like a mirror and I don’t like what I see.
I feel like a war-torn poem.. half-written, half-ruined.
I don’t know if I want to cry or scream, or curl
