Tuesday, 9 September 2014

3 to 25: Illusions

I whispered your name into my darkened room, half waiting half hating for and with myself, thinking you'll answer back.


It's too cold tonight, I need the illusion of your arms and the promise of safety your embrace brings.


You are still embedded in the deepest of my being. I would stop running now, escaping the memories of you is futile, even if I try.

I whispered your name in the darkness, thinking, perhaps this time, you'll answer back.

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