Silhouette Of Sadness

They say that the flame of desire need not to be kept kindled, but shared.

She says emotions are a game of solitaire played in solitude, and she can never pull the king of hearts.

Emotions are a game of chess, a game of checkers, and a rubik cube. Surrender your queen, and you may not get it back.

The thoughts of that take the taste out of her tea infused with morphine and bleach because she wishes she couldn’t feel.

She wishes she could cleanse the rainbow sharpie that you sprawled on her heart with your name in bold.

She wishes she could paralyze her heart rate, the hairs on her arms, and her sweat glands.

What is love?

Being in this one man cult has made her cautious and she refuses to risk seeing your smile, to just remembering it.

She refuses to risk hearing your laugh, to listening to an audio on repeat of it.

What would she gain?

When she has everything to lose.

Though her surrender could grant her a king.

She would rather drink her tea with two parts bleach and four morphine.

Than risk tracing the outlines from your shoulders to your fingertips and holding you.

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