The delusion that you truly believe I can be turned down, off, MUTE.
That my voice won’t visit your moments of quiet tracing your steps back to my den.
Oh! How awful do my lips look?
You distort the red.
I’m burrowed deeply into you.
The delusion that you feel I can be placed on a bed of ice. Hoping that you’ll feel me FADE. Frozen in August 2019 where you left us.
My red lips, blue with the frost setting in. Your mind showing my absence.
Only, you hear my whispers.
‘Trust our universe’
‘You are amazing’
‘I believe in you.’
Yes, you heard that didn’t you!
Oh! How delusional that you felt for a moment in time that I was never Unique. I healed you…
You dismissed my powers when you felt the warmth of being cured.
At night you lay awake, wondering if you got things right? Hearing my sweet whispers and hoping (religiously) you’ll hear my voice once again.
Only I don’t exist.