Numb

Ice.

That’s how it stings.

Rather, I wish it burned.

I wish for my skin to feel the warm sensation of a burning flame

and shrivel and fall apart

like paper.

No.

I wish it could soak up the water.

Let it flow all around, absorb everything and then

evaporate into the air,

turning into cloud.

My thoughts are with you skin,

And with you,

I carry the tune.

My deepest conviction is my deepest regret,

For I understand the meaninglessness of myself

The meaninglessness of whatever I allowed myself to endure

This pain which I should’ve been able to wield

Like a writer to his pen.

I failed him.

On paper, he had expected me to give him the world

And yet

I chose to disobey.

My feelings, for whatever I feel, or felt

That ridiculous illusion

This pointless game

All led to this:

The void.

The nothing.

The no one.