#devotion is dead

you share his face, his name, but you are not him. you walk around, a desecrated grave of him. just like the stone rememberance of him, you offer no warmth in your eyes and no mercy in your actions.

the foliage must have seeped in and taken over, growing something- someone else in his place. the man i loved is dead, as his killer invades his own body claiming the identity of the host.