Stillness…

From the stagnant, quiet place in my heart. There’s words unwritten bcuz they cannot align into luv as an art. The silence of the pulse indicates there’s a dormant motionless feel that lingers. As the flesh is the only thing that can enjoy the touch of fingers. Alone is emotion settled into the chest as there isn’t even a flutter to ignore passing twists. The next best thing it to just live and as hope refuses to invest. It’s an error being being almost dead inside. Walking around zombiefied. Smiling, but without the excitement that doesn’t drift with the wind. S humor is the defense ripping loose from the rind. Dam near chuckling to exist so that life isn’t a waste. And it’s strange to feel anything upon the faces. Empty is a misplaced of worth hiding in the dark. Unable to luv through expressions as the physical form is so hard. eBay will it take to vine back from to the light? What reason would register for desire to escape the line? There’s not even a draft that brings a whiff of curiosity with the breeze. Or, it could be, me…