23/11/15
It's been 48 hours since I've heard from you.
48 hours since you told me to stop talking to you, that you needed space.
Was what I done really so bad?
Was me showing you a glimpse of the person I used to be enough to make you run and hide?
I was just in the shower, the hot water on as high as it could go, I sat there with my knees brought to my chest, my head hung low as the scorching water collided with my back and heated my soul, because for the past few days I have never felt so cold.
I thought of you, while I sat there, I wondered what you were doing, where you were, I assumed you are in school, it is a monday after all, but in all honesty I don't want to know where you are, or what you're doing, all I really want to know is if you are thinking of me, because you haven't left my mind.
All my thoughts are tainted with you.
I tilted my head back, allowing the flow of the water to heat my face, to massage my skin to the point where it almost felt numb, it was a beautiful feeling, the heat and the constant beating of the water on my face, my mouth parted so I could breath in the humid air, allowing some oxygen to fill my lungs.
I stood then, knowing I couldn't stay there for much longer, because I knew if I did I would never move, I placed my hands on the shower wall, my legs and feet pressed together as I stared at the shower tap, willing myself to make a move, but it was like I was planted, my thoughts still continue to be tainted with you.
I didn't want to leave the warmth and the comfort of the shower, feeling the beads of water running over my skin, carresing my body as if a pair of hands were there holding me, massaging me, making me feel warm, making me feel safe, I didn't want to leave because I knew the second that I did, all of that would fade away.
It doesn't matter what I do.
I could be watching TV.
I Could be listening to music.
I could be walking.
I could be watching the world pass by.
I could just be sitting in silence.
And I would find a way to connect all of those things to you.
I am tainted by love, and I no longer know what to do.
YOU ARE READING
This Is My Story.
Literatura FaktuThis is a collection of my thoughts from the past year or so... I used to publish them, but stipped as some became very personal, it became my diary, but I've since decided that I no longer care, because you can know everything about me, but you don...