Still waters run deep.
So they say. Whoever they are. The quiet facade hiding the cascade of feeling below. A waterfall under a loch. The occasional ripple observed by only the most infatuated observer.
Still here.
Can't seem to leave though you might occasionally try. The lure too strong. The ever elusive sense of needing, belonging even. Checking in when it feels like drudging through deep, gooey syrup. It should be sweet but it clings to your skin, your face, your hair, your everything.
Still reaching.
Childlike grabby hands. Crying for something you so desperately need, but can never quite close on. Aim for the stars, the mysterious "they" say. When you miss your constricted, gasping, the metaphorical vacuum of space taking hold of your chest.
Still hurting.
A twinge, a tear. A full god damn rip into the beating, messy heart of you. Red and black and shocks of white.
You close your eyes; and you are Still
a/n: going back to the hellhole of a uni tomorrow. so you know what prompted this :')
