#...
Lips frozen and colored by the cold, is the image I carry as I walk home, disappointed for not acting, sad and distressed for not knowing what hurts you.
That is now my ordeal, I no longer feel the cold of the snow, but the sadness of your hands wanting to tear the heart from your chest as affliction and healing for a rest that I don't see as reasonable.
Now those events are engraved in my mind repeating over and over again, embedding needles in my heart wounding me with each repetition.
I arrive at the door with my broken hopes of conquest because I understood that you only needed a hug, not an I love you, not a praise.
I see in my cousins an attempt to question as to what happened, but I lower my head and reflect everything, because now I live your affliction.
I run to my pillow, which dips me in a run of white feathers, trying to comfort me.
They comfort me, I remember the smile at the airport and in the flash your eyes, and now I know it was faked.