Noise... it sounds like static.
It's all engulfing me, and I crave silence...
It feels like I'm trying to water a flower that's closer to ashes than anything. It's only been hours, and I'm already at a corner with red hands turning my throat purple.
My heart feels wounded, and I see why I stay at arms length. Words cut me in ways stitches can't repair. There's things I wish weren't ever said... things I had no intention to hear from those lips.
I guess I recognized I was too sensitive for my own good, and I'd rather be in bliss than feel the crumbling under my feet.
I can't unhear words, and I can't quite keep the tears from burning layers of my willingness.
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