It's 3:47 AM, and I find myself missing you. I wish I didn't. The bathroom tiles look frigid. My body appears to be the same way. I just don't feel it. I don't feel anything. The first drop of water trickles down my back. It's tepid at this point. A tear slips past my cheek. The droplets concurrently carry out to travel over the surface of my skin, until they finally fall to the ground. Is it bizarre that I can hear their discrete sounds, as they hit the floor? My hair is now multiple shades darker, scrupulously wet. The water seems to be heated at this point. I screw my eyes shut. All I can see is you. Evocatively. Lucidly. But when I open them, you're no longer here. You never were. Everything is hazy, nothing's pellucid. Abstract thoughts cloud my mind, in the same manner steam envelopes the room. The water is scalding hot, at this point. My skin is burning. You made me feel like this. Feel like my entire body was on fire. It's disconsolate, how I now, have to now get in the shower to feel anything at all. The water stings me. I want to scream. Cry out for help, but I don't. I stand still, because I know that this feeling is temporary. Everything is fleeting. Just like you; here one day, and gone the next. The steam starts to clear up, yet I continue to exist in the adverse conditions of mind. Everything appears to be so perspicacious, but nothing else has ever been more open to question. The final drop of water, meets with my skin. And it feels just like my heart. Cold. Cold. Cold.
— IT'S NOW, 6:24 AM, AND I STILL MISS YOU.
YOU ARE READING
VEIL'D MELANCHOLY.
PoetryNeither salt nor sugar settles on your tongue. Only this blood of mine does. Neither I nor she fills up your heart. Only these tears of mine do. [POETRY/PROSE]
