feeling lonely.
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lotusmystiekstill as depressing as always
Autoplay OFF  •  4 months ago
feeling lonely, again.

feeling lonely.

by lotusmystiek

it's quiet here.

all alone I'm staring at the pieces of blank papers in my cold hands. they are all as blank as my heart. a blank canvas, all alone.

the wind is howling.

shaking up the house, as I was sitting by the window. my fingernails trailing down the papers, wishing it could turn into skin. that the skin could be of the person I loved most.

shivers go down my back,

as soon as I heard the raindrops shooting against the window. fascinated by the dots, mesmerised my eyes slide over the glass. following the drops that are sliding down like snakes.

when the rain stops,

the loneliness appears again, it's visible again. no longer distracted and hypnotised by the water falling from the dark clouds.

my empty heart,

it hurts. burning inside my chest. and I could feel the water stinging in my eyes. alone, always alone. it was like being cursed, seeing them all.

my cold hands,

let go of the papers, dramatically falling on the floor. my hands, they clutch themselves onto my even colder arms. then the drops leak from my eyes, without a sound or warning.

silence,

but everything inside of my mind keeps screaming. silence, just make the demons voices even clearer. and it makes it even more clear how lonely I was.

a tortured scream,

filling my mind and heart, breaking the very last part inside of me. I don't remember how I ended up lying on the floor, curling myself into a ball. fighting the urge to let out another cry.

it hurt everywhere,

it wouldn't stop. it never did.

and when i opened my eyes again,

I was lying in my bed, disoriented. my cries were in yesterday, today was a new day. long forgotten I slowly walked down the stairs.

the empty house,

was another sad reminder. just like the silence that made the shouting crystal clear,

it was raining,

just for a few minutes. I sat down again, at the window. the blank pieces of paper, that were supposed to be filled. like my heart. were between my two cold hands. and I sitting there was,

feeling lonely,

again.

the smell of rain,

it had made it's way inside, some how.

it's quiet here.

all alone I'm staring at the pieces of blank papers in my cold hands. they are all as blank as my heart. a blank canvas, all alone.

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bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
4 months agoReply
This was lugubriously sad. I suppose the loneliness you described was something that has haunted you. Great post!!!!!