The silence is deafening.
Yearning.
Yearning.
Yearning.
I can feel the tears slice down my neck.
Falling.
Falling.
Or are they flying?
Riveting sound, a craving one cannot have.
Craving, craving, craving, craving, craving, craving, craving, craving.
Shattered minds collide in a sweet sound unknown to I.
To me.
To her.
There is no sound.
The silence is deafening.
