Two

The paper-thin walls are crumbling.
Fissures run like scars across the surface.
Water leaks through like tears down the scaffolding.
It wells up. It swells up.
The terrible tide of an unmistakable furore rages through the walls, pushing through, roaring, crying, wailing.
Cut. Razor sharp.
It cuts through the skyline like knife against raw skin.
There is this terrifying urge to scratch and claw at the beautiful clouds. Those clouds that are sailing peacefully, obliviously across the azure expanse.
And now they are scudding.
Torn apart. Sliced up. Bleeding white. Bleeding gossamer of angel hair.
To self-mutilate. To deconstruct moments of perfection.
Have I lost your heart to the icy hollow void?
I was never yours at any point in our history.
We lost time.
Slipping sand of emotions. A landslide that might kill everything.
Everything we used to have. Everything.
Words left unsaid. A well-written bitterness.
Silence your secret screams. I will keep my silence until you break yours.
Shine. I will shine through your darkness.