Part II · Descent
Cold
October 31st 2024
Your touch hurts.
You’ve already pulled away—
I can feel it.
You don’t want this.
It’s obvious.
It hums in the silence.
But still, we stay.
Why?
There’s no warmth left.
No healing.
Just the same arguments
on different days.
Same bed,
separate lives.
This isn’t love.
It’s a habit.
A truce.
A resignation.
We’re not partners.
We’re not even friends.
Just two broken people
who mistook shelter
for home.
*Content Warning: This poem contains references to physical abuse and strangulation.
Please take care with yourself while reading.