Oct. 18th @ 11:30-something

Her eyes were blank as she stared forward into the distance. The cold of her bare back against the wall released a grim chill that made every individual pore tingle. Slowly her fingers found their way to her hair, bleached & damaged, loved & destroyed. She ran her thumb along the cracked lines of her lips. They quivered, a testimony to unspoken emotions. Her brow, her lashes, her neck, her tongue, her stomach–they all reeked of attachment to him. She wanted him, she almost had him whole. Now she could only have half. Would he still take her? This question devoured her, body and mind. Not one second passed in a day where some part of her brain was not entirely wrapped within it as if by some iron blanket. 

Flesh–his flesh–would be the only release; the only imprisonment, & she would settle for nothing less.