Did you hear that?

That was the sound of all the fight leaving me. That wasn't my heart tearing apart, breaking into a hundred years. It was all the pent up energy bading me a big goodbye.

I am tired.

I am just a vessel with nothing to hold in. I keep pouring the water from your bottle into my mouth, without touching the opening with my lips in hopes that I don't remain an empty vessel.

I am scared.

I am scared to touch the mouth of your bottle with my mouth. I am scared if my mouth will never find anything like it when the language of thirst is the only means of communication it knows.

I am no thing.

I am no thing you want to look at. I am no thing you want to take a snapshot of. I am a blur that will disintegrate your photograph into a vast opening of nostalgia, dipped in black and white, or sepia, depending on the quality of your camera.

I see your back. A beautiful thing moving, far, far, far away from me, until you are a blur that disintegrate my photograph into a vast opening of nostalgia, dipped in black and white.

My camera had sucked all the colors when you sucked yourself out from my framed photograph.

Standby. Standby. Standby.

***
©VioletEden