The tears don’t feel like going out.
She's stuck to the bed.
Numbed frown.
Lips conjealed.
Dancing feet frozen.
She doesn’t feel like life today.
She stops.
She sinks.

******* just to feel.
something.
anything
a ten second high
addictive personality
She rolls up her life, her future, her personality, her intellect and potential into Rizzla every day,
lighter at the ready she burns.

I am numb. I want to throw myself against the wall just to feel. My senses have run-off with the memory of you. In my dumb blindness I’m feeling around someone else’s scent in a thirsty attempt to taste your feeling.

The artfully disguised crypt was her kryptonite.
She leaned on her foundational support, but it cracked.
But luckily cracks make us more accessible.
She lay propped up.
She was the type to bruise cold and well.