I often imagine darkness.
Dream of pulling the thick, heavy curtains over my eyes.
My final performance in this skin.
No encore.
No applause.
Just silence from the stage I once called myself.
My last bow to the audience of the world that left me broken.
A closing call to air that once filled my lungs.
Please…
Don’t throw me roses.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 5:44 PM UTC
I often imagine darkness.
Dream of pulling the thick, heavy curtains over my eyes.
My final performance in this skin.
No encore.
No applause.
Just silence from the stage I once called myself.
My last bow to the audience of the world that left me broken.
A closing call to air that once filled my lungs.
Please…
Don’t throw me roses.
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