this cold night . something empty wears on the heart . love’s lonesome tenderness . ( is the floor sinking ‘neath her feet ? are her footsteps too heavy ? ) he must see now the anchor she is . this grief , a devouring ophidian , reminisces with her heart . this bleeding cut . she picks at it in the evening , indulging the infection . ❝ are you gonna tell me what’s wrong ? & please don’t say it’s nothing . i know you better than that . ❞
@curseslain !












