silk
why have i grown so dependent on this? on these words in sentences in paragraphs that i write just to drown my thoughts? it's soothing in the most haunting way. it's like the beauty of decay and the stunningly beautiful concept of death. so cruel yet so inviting. i’ve written my pain so clearly i almost admire it. my own blood, draining from my body in a flowing scarlet curtain. like a silk i can wrap myself in, i write.