Greyscale paints my view with as much enthusiasm as the death that grips my mind. The cars continue to release a deep gray fog that blends into the toxicity already present. The bench beneath my existence thaws and dampens but is a feeling I add to the list of those I bury deep. I try not to feel it.
Being in this frigidness seemed like the only sensible action after the heated interaction that still singes my synapses. The burn never seeming to cool irregardless of the chatter between my teeth and bones. I am caught between numbness and the betraying shivers that keep my heart beating.
How I wish to stop feeling.
If only the frost would seep into my mind and corrupt the memory track that keeps looping back. The only color left leaking into this gray is that of the fury in her eyes. The redness in everything around me like a gigantic stop sign telling me to both freeze and run.
I’ve always been a flight risk.
But I couldn’t hold it in longer. I preferred death to wrap itself around me like a noose or a choking hand than continue on with all these regrets. I couldn’t keep doing this to her. She didn’t deserve the feeling I left her with.
Maybe if the falling sky picks up it’ll bury me here with it.
Wipe my existence clean off this earth so that something else can begin again. A blank canvas.
If only.
If only.
About the Creator
Oneg In The Arctic
A queer storyteller and poet of arctic adventures, good food, identity, mental health, and more.
Co-founder of Queer Vocal Voices
Water is Life ✊
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.