Ecchymosed Cheeks

The toxicity in his rigid voice and the poison in his frigid palms haunted her being as an unsupportable appetency smack in the night. Notwithstanding the repetitive discomfort, she continuously crawled back for more, like a comforting hug restricting her airways and falsely affirming that her existence cannot exist without his.

Her amount-less luggage was retained — hidden away — as she silenced the tears that burnt down her ecchymosed cheeks, like the unanswered questions and undoubtful doubt that trickled through her cluttered mind. Staring at the ticking, illuminated digits, on her nearby nightstand, where flowers effortlessly appeared each morning, she estimated the time one would take to lace up their shoes in the murky dark.

With each fulminating snore, she grew an inch closer to the edge of the bed; clawing her way to touch freedom alas. As he eventually rotated his pusillanimous body, she graced the ground with the tip of her unstable toes and stealthily made her way past the triple-locked door, in search of herself; with nothing but a suitcase.

Published by notapeepbutlotsofpaper

A silent voice with lots to say. I speak with pens to stay away.

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