Ruiniert

  Stop. Don't breathe. Don't think. He might hear you. I am pressed against the wall. My fingers are spread as wide as they will go as my palms press heavily on the drywall. I take a deep breath. Hold it tight. I feel the air escaping my lungs, my circulation; my blood thinning of oxygen as I hold, one, two, three…. I hear Him slither down the hallway. His movements are languid, snake like, as He comes after me. I can imagine it all in my head: the long, thin arms, coiling around every turn and corner, searching for me. Have you ever noticed His face? His eyes—or lack thereof? I have a theory. He doesn't have eyes because

I hate that you're my every thought That I wake with you on my mind And fall asleep To images of your smile I hate that I adore you so With gorgeous eyes And sweet lips I long to taste I hate the way you make me feel Like I need you to survive As if breathing without you Is excruciating I hate that I yearn for you I hunger for your touch Every moment Of every day I hate the way I love you With every beat Of my wretched heart That loving you keeps me alive Yet keeps me alone