A little something.

It's like fading. Fading past being fragile & untouchable. It's another dimension, a hell so delicate & perfect that it almost seems like heaven. It's folding up, bone on bone. Unblinking eyes, past tears or regret. It's neediness, a cloak of invisibility in the darkness. It's a dying rose, a sheet of ice, a whispered goodbye. It's darkness, sweetness, sadness, weakness. It's a white room with no windows or doors. It's a foetus that will be safe until it's presence is felt. It's holding your breath underwater, hearing a hushed argument, staring at your own blood. It's a fear of being unfolded. Fear of love, sincerity, honest appreciation. It's a distance masked by party dresses and white wine. It's a faux joy disguising isolation. It's an empty stomach. It's a void, a wound, a scar. It's vulnerability.