elsiewarrenswords

Mental illness

Your voice

So soft, delicate, tender

Is no longer loud enough my darling.

 

My whole being trembles and the pure skeleton beneath my pale skin uncontrollably rattles.

It makes the loudest sound

It wont go away

 

It shrugs off

Your touch.

 

Like a sudden feeling of apprehension

The quaking horror and dread.

Your touch falls away, with every jut and although I\'m only tiny,

Hits the ground like a train disconnected from the bridge track.

 

Your face

And features

Like everything else in my mind,

Evaporates.