The tip of my tongue separates my lips
dry; loosely stuck together
Beyond me is a screaming voice, trailing off into nothingness
I do miss them, you? However I should refer…
The bags under my eyes deepen as a wave of realization washes over me
My numb, frozen fingers reach to carase my bluish-purple lips
I feel nothing, all senses dulled to their weakest points
Times like these my dying mind will wonder,
Wonder if I’ve ever felt a thing
I’ve always whispered, mumbling under my breath my disdain
Back when my blood flowed red, I held a sense of animosity,
of disgust, bitterness, and could even venture to say pain at the thought of you
Them? Us? Who cares…
And I wonder if my heart would beat at this...