Silence.

Look, Greenie can write too.




After everything.
The insults, the lies, the silent, secret betrayal...
Lost in the comfort of soft, white fluff..
The wind howling outside the window
Sounding like voices of the dead, shrieking
Crying
Calling, for something
The book, thin pages between shaking fingers
The words gone unread
Blurred
By tears and disinterest
The cold somehow seeping in through the closed glass, the sealed door, the dormant fan..
All in silence but the howling, the rustle of the pages, and the far off bass of a song.
Slow, bored, confused thoughts.
Random people,
places,
moments,
memories...
Nothing else to think of.
But happiness.
Delusion.
Joy.
Hot tears making silent paths down flushed, fevered skin.
A path.
A mark.
Look, weve been here.
Weve claimed this as our own.
Its ours.