< Back

Hindsight

You were the quiet of an empty syringe ready at any moment to either heal me, or slowly and addictively kill me. You were the quiet of broken glass in the street. You showed evidence of past abuse, but also had potential to pop other's tires. You were the quiet of embers. Always ready to suck the oxygen from around you only so that you could reignite yourself. Now you are the quiet of a used noose. Smugly swaying in the wind without a care in the world, awaiting the touch of your next victim's throat.

Hindsight

You were the quiet of an empty syringe ready at any moment to either heal me, or slowly and addictively kill me. You were the quiet of...