Thursday, June 4, 2009
Walking Down The Stairs (Liar)
Mike slams through the bottom floor door; the sky's grey, the sun's hanging low, and there's a gloom that rests over the cityscape. He flips up the lapelle's on his jacket, trying to catch a little warmth, he lets out a cold exhale, and thrusts his hands into his pocket.
All he could think of was her limp body laying across the bed, dead to the world, dead to him... dead in general. It pained him to see her like that every time. He couldn't think about it, he just couldn't -- he shook his head. No luck. He did it again... there was just no use, anytime he closed his eyes her image was ingrained on his eyelids.