A/N It's late and My window is broken.

I don't like this feeling.

This hollow feeling cut and grazed around the edges. Stinging me every single goddamn time I let myself remember...

These feelings wash over in waves, picking up speed and momentum…all my barriers and walls taking such a ferocious beating that I am begging for mercy …against myself?

These thoughts? These memories? This feeling? No, I don't like it at all.

I can't help but shiver. I am so cold. So cold.

My fingers shake. So cold.

Nothing is okay, nothing is okay.

The thoughts just happen! I didn't mean for it I swear! I meant to be happy…I meant to do as I promised and I meant to be OK.

But nothing is alright. I am so far from alright that I can't even fathom what such a security as that may even be.

I am not Okay. I am cold. Everything hurts.

I ache. I cry, I think. I'm not sure , it could be tears, it could be pain but I don't remember feeling anything else so maybe this is normal.

Maybe everyone lives like this. Maybe everyone is cold. So cold. Too cold.

But why? I let myself question….why wouldn't anyone speak up and cry out? Why didn't anyone say I don't want to hurt and ache? Why didn't anyone yell and scream until the pain and the cold went away?

No. I am the only one. Normal people smile. Normal people laugh and sing because nothing is wrong and everything is okay.

Normal people don't have to lie to themselves everyday and say it's going to get better. Normal people don't beg for mercy from there own hearts and there own useless stinging memories.

Normal people aren't so cold.

-

Norma people don't have this feeling. This feeling I dislike so much. These memories and thoughts so scarring, so traumatizing that normal people would just yell and scream until it al went away.

They don't understand that I can't escape. They don't understand that I deserve this.

They don't understand any of it.

Even I have forgotten some. The minor details have been lost , stored somewhere to far away in my mind for me to reach . I don't remember what was said or what exactly was done but… I remember the feelings.

I always remember the feelings. Because they are so much stronger than any whisper or any cry. They actually mean something.

An image flashes through my mind. So unwanted, greeted with so much pain that it drills and stings until I have to make it stop.

I have to make it stop.

I

Have

To

Make

It

Stop.

There. Oh? But a memories seeps through.

Her hands were always warm, her fingertips like fire, even if her eyes were an icy frost too lost in the chill of the roaring nights

I'll always remember things like that. How her skin was like hot coals, searing but yet so tantalizing. So alluring that one couldn't even try and let go , to even try and defeat her.

She was so addictive. So Powerful. So knowingly so.

She was a hunter and I was her prey.

Another memory. Another thought. I am too weak to fight, Not like this...not when its this cold and this dark and this lonely.

She used to run her fingers along my arm. Brushing the tiny little hairs that, in her presence seemed to always be on end. It was a tingling, burning sensation that no one could ever match.

When holding me close, burning me every single time she seemed so…in control. But,

I'd look up and her eyes gave her away.

Every single time.

They weren't blazing. They weren't' t sparkling or dancing like I my own. There was nothing.

Nothing but the glare from the dim light.

She'd look away. She always did, as if trying to shield herself from me. But I'd already seen enough. Enough to know that sooner or later she was leaving. Enough to know that she wasn't coming back.

Then, in a split second she would kiss me. Pushing all the fears out of my mind. Erasing any doubt or any thoughts of confrontation.

She'd wrap herself so skillfully around me. She was so powerful, I had already lost before I even started.

Her lips burnt the most. Scorching, Charring at my own. It wasn't wet and soft, it was hard and grazing.

Her lips were a flame of perfection and I was at her mercy, I could never even pretend to win.

There's always going to be that one person who sets you on fire.

And without her, I realize now, all you can ever be is cold. Too cold to remember the warmth that corroded your mind when she entered the room.

I want to burn again.

But without her flaming fingertips, I am frost. I am ice and I am broken

Just like her eyes.

And , though I was blind to it all until it was too late.

Just like her smile.

--

She is gone. She has left. And I was too god damn fucking late to stop it.

That's why I feel this way.

That's why I deserve it.

That's why I'm so cold…because the fire burnt out along time ago.

It ceased with the slamming of the door.