Author S. K. Nicholas

Darkness in the taste of your lips. Wherever you are, you’ll remain hidden in a blanket of sounds that drowns out everything else. In the hearts that slip between cracks in the pavement, there’s just no way of guessing what goes on. When feelings are squeezed dry, and the air in your lungs diminishes, there’s no way of understanding what damage it can cause in the long run. Putting on a face. Putting on your clothes. Ways of masking the truth. Methods of concealing emotion. Pretend that this is what you want, that this is what your life amounts to. Pick your disease, and give in to it. Let the days go by as if they meant nothing at all. Somewhere, the sea calls your name. The water washes over rocks and glistens in the evening sun. Yet you can’t bear to bring yourself to the window. Can’t muster the energy to be around other people. Too many words and too much failed love. Beauty is useless. It reduces like an open wound. As guilty as the rest, as empty as screams in the face of a war that can never be won. This ugliness that never seems to shift. Dreams of dying that always seem to stick around long after you’ve gone. Toothless smiles haunting from the side of the road, and a knife fight that renders me numb. The blade cuts deep, yet never deeper than your words. Tears of a lover, all hunched up and desperate against the radiator. All alone in an empty room, and crying out for someone to save them. This isn’t how I am; it’s just a goodbye to someone who never cared.