My heart is open: Pumping blood — spilling love into my veins. A river courses through me. My eyes are dry although inside I cry from the pains of yesterday. My eyes are open: Colours in sight — breed
I sit at the screen and breathe — In and out. Blasé is a feeling that’s deep. It’s not sadness per say, It’s numbness. It’s this looming hole inside of me That never heals. That aches Thinking someone