but the hollowed out infinity where my life once nestled amongst the luminous dunes of the Sands of Time and the nauseating hopes of Forever.
a hideous, putrid, rotting thing, attached to that nothing like a leech, summoning my own power from pain, taking, taking, but giving little to those who once offered their strength but now deny me.
Yet I give.
but my withered soul, desperate in my cracked snow globe of a reality where the ashes of love flitter to the ground, so dazzling, so pure, so deceiving until they kiss the scarred earth.
give my heart to them so secretly that they do not notice, do not appreciate my token through their suffering, until all that I am shrivels, wrinkled and useless, and nothing remains but a shallow whimper, the ghost of a sob.
And those cries fall upon deaf, cauliflowered ears, solid lumps with no purpose awaiting the soundwave that will finally shatter their silence.
Still I give.
(c) Alisandra Gray, 2014.