From the absence and the silence,
The blood dried quickly on my skin, its decaying darkness shattered across the cracks of my shaking hands. I knew I must wash it away, cleanse myself beneath the cold purity of water to be renewed, and drown the sinister thoughts taunting the irrational depths of my mind.
Yet still I lay, curled upon your rich textured carpet, the horrifying warmth of a crimson pool congealing against my cheek, its torrid smell suffocating my shallow breaths.
I feel as though I have been cheated, as though I should be racked with such inconsolable grief and trauma, except even my tears have abandoned me. My body aches with strain but every time I summon the will to move, the weight is shifted and your lifeless touch brushes against mine, awakening a new sense of nausea.
My fingertips absently graze the tainted luxury surrounding us, beyond repair or salvation. I am not sure what I'm waiting for. I only know that if I were to look and find your eyes devoid of a soul, I may lose the last pieces of mine.