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As she stepped out of the steam onto the icy tiles, knife like shivers instantly coursed about her veins. She was beyond cold, her skin seemed frost bitten, as did her heart. She sauntered to the mirror and locked her emeralds with the nude stranger peering back at her. She felt dead, in body, and in mind. She slightly pressed against her wrist, indeed she was alive; she had a pulse, a pulse she felt she didn’t deserve. She pulled his shirt on, it was entirely too big, but it warmed her. She lay on the sheet of ice, letting the frost caress the locks of her hair and eyelashes as she drifted into a lonely coma. Her sleep was dreamless, consisting of what seemed like an abyss of darkness, just a wildly empty hole. She awoke to the sound of rain falling on the rooftop, unaware of the time. Peering out of the doorway, she slowly walked down the hall to her bedroom, swallowing her sadness with each step. As she placed her unpolished fingers on the door she felt a pang of bitterness wail in her stomach, tears subsequently began to trickle off her lashes. She entered the room where they once slumbered; they had been lovers lost in each others souls, fervency shaping their hearts into one with each kiss. She had to somehow accept that he was gone, that half of her heart now ceased to beat. She buried his love in the deepest vicinity of her body, it was her blood, it was her oxygen, she could not survive without it. She knew she had to soldier on, through a life without him; evermore destined to only sense love through memories, her heart holding on by a solitary thread.

Created: Feb 03, 2011


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