Monday, August 25, 2014


She liked to write in the dark. Her words made more sense when she couldn't see them. But they were engraved in her head, they were stuck in head. They breathed lightly on her palms as they were imprinted onto the blank paper with light swoops of her pencil.
Her words could drown het. Sometimes they cared but they usually swept her up in a dark prison from which she could not escape. From which she couldn't claw her way out. She used to feel the unsaid words graze down her throat. She could sense them pounding in her head, swirling around in senseless combinations, trying to escape, trying to sound lucid. This frustrated her, it angered her. She used to curse herself as tears rolled down her scarlet cheeks.
Sometimes the clouds were so intense that they used to suffocate her. They hugged her so tight that she could scarcely breathe. Her eyes would tear up as she struggled to stay alive, to catch a wisp of air. She would lie motionless as all those around her cursed her, taunted her, ridiculed her. Their hurtful words flowed freely, unlike the ones that were stuck in her head. But they never really saw how their remarks would tear into her flesh, how they could claw they way into her heart. All she wanted than was a friend, someone to save her when the words no longer came out, when they began to choke her, when the silence started growing too loud, when the words drowned out her voice and her cries for help.
But sometimes her words, they cared for her. They would caress her as they were gently and lovingly strung into poetry, into laughter, into magic, into declarations of love, into her songs, into her dreams and into her sleep. That's when the words themselves rescued her, that's when they became her companion, the voices that lulled her into her sleep every night.

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