Monday, March 7


Your silence speaks volumes; it hollows me out. Or maybe I've been this empty vessel for all time, waiting for you to help me fill it. But I don't think you can hear the thirst gurgling down my body. Does it start in the mind? Does it start in the heart? All I know for sure is I'm bleeding torrents and ask you for a Band-Aid, which you refuse to give. Cause you can't hear me, baby, so lost in your quiet inquietude that all around only replies to the echo of your painstruck soul. Numb, you try to go numb, when all I want is feel. Always on the opposite ends of the same thought, this can only end badly, but still...
Photo source: Grunge-top

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