She Fell in Love with Melancholy

It's four a.m. and the world is dark, chilly spring air that dips colder as sudden black clouds roll in.

And without warning, rain falls - hard and fast, cleansing the still dark world before the sun rises.

It last for a while. The world filled with water sounds as it hits concrete and glass, growing colder by the second.

And then, it stops. The air fresh and clean, still dark, no sun on the horizon yet - but as the spring shower leaves, the world knows peace.

She dances to music only she can hear, footsteps so light, they barely make a sound. She dances alone, eyes closed, pretending that death's cold embrace has not touched her (It has, her body rest six feet under, flowers blooming upon her mortal remains. She's dead and gone.) as the moonlight shimmers through her.

countdown to geography of wounds

[Text ID: It was always October in my throat.]

[Text ID: Yours, yours. I was painted for you.]