The Grieving

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Photo by Emma Powers.

Musky violet sky floated through the window. 

Dusty air painted in reds and purples. 

The walls, the floor, stained with light and color. 

Who knew that beauty could exist in this.

The devil of shadow stifled my sun. 

The room harden.

The whites and greys snuck in.

The cold hard metal glared. 

The desk was a mirrort. 

Dragged eyes of brown and gold stared into my soul. 

Those eyes scared me, I don’t know

They shouldn’t though…

I flopped into the bed and it punched me back. 

My hands searched round, found nothing. 

Where is the pillow!

 No blanket, no pillow, no light, no thing. 

Hello! HEY!!

Silence seized with silken strands.

Silence deafened me with its familiar symphony. 

Silence choked with intimate touch. 

“Be quiet!” 

What do you mean ‘quiet!’ It’s a tomb here. 

“Well shut up!”

Wait! Someone took the pillow! 

I want it back please i cant sleep withnothingineedsomethingor

“Shut up! I will bring you something.”

I slumped to the floor. 

The window looked back at me. 

The ceiling decided to wake up. 

A pulsing light lit the room. 

Bad light. 

But it would turn off.

Soon my moon would soar. 

And this cold cell will gleam.

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