A/N: Therapy for myself because, hell, Damon's death is something I'll never be over. Also, my broken heart over the impossibility of Delena next season. I wrote this as an angsty but needed therapy for the events of 5x22.

Songfic, by definition. It's a literal take on "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men. Please read and review!

I don't like walking around

This old and empty house.

So hold my hand, I'll walk

With you, my dear.

On an off day, she's been found in the same spot from dawn to dusk. Her hands and arms wrap around herself, and the only movement of her feet is a rocking motion that sends her rocking back and forth slowly. Her eyes - those beautiful, glinting eyes so brown and soft - when open, are bloodshot from nights, weeks, months of grief. Time blends together, and she honestly loses track of it in the scope of things. Why bother counting every second or day when she has a million more at her fingertips? Why, she wonders somberly, count another instant of seperation from the very reason of her existence? So, she never moves. She hates walking within the lonely walls to hear the decrepit whispers squeezing through the boarding house' old cracks and crawl spaces.

There was a day she had, however. She'd ventured up the stairs and found herself wandering rooms she'd never in her life visited. It'd been at the crack of dawn, before even the birds had awoken. Pitiful things, she muses sullenly, they have no right to sing. It's as she passes his room that a breath of wind ghost across the skin of her hand. It's noticeable enough that she draws her hand back and lets her gaze rest on it, staring at it with some interest (and startlement) before turning on a heel and returning whence she'd come.

There's an old voice in my head,

That's holding me back.

Well, tell her that I miss

Our little talks.

She sits sometimes in her old room, right there on the windowsill. The window remains unlatched and open; wind whistles through the vacant space, but she doesn't feel the chill. Her heightened sight searches the darkness lit only by the moon, and her gaze rests on the scraggled oak tree beside her house. The wound in her heart burns with renewed vigor, enough that a tear slips from her now-closed eyes. Her hand reaches up to the ring clasped around her neck, and her errant thumb smoothes over the raised ridges of the lapis lazuli.

You're gone, gone, gone away

I watched you disappear.

All that's left is the ghost of you.

Now wait, wait, wait for me.

Please hang around.

I'll see you when I fall asleep.

A thousand years pass and the pain still burns. Her heart has shriveled long ago, its once red petals now grey and wretched. She can cry no more tears; whether her human body has been depleted or she simply doesn't have the will, she just can't. She believes sleep will come more easily to her now. She lays herself down to it now, folding soft hands beneath her cheek. Her eyes slip closed and the only wish of her heart is that even in dreams, she may see him. If only in dreams.

A/N: Thoughts? Whatever's on your mind, tell me in a review.

(p.s. I do ship Delena, okay? I just hate what Julie Plec has done with them and Damon's death, I will never, ever, EVER get over that.)