Emotionally Detached

20 3 1

by capsicle_stan

by capsicle_stan

Credits to:

ElletheSwiftie

A/N: Probably one of my favorite ones, TBH

Emotionally detached, a phrase that echoes through the chambers of the heart, Where feelings once bloomed like wildflowers, Now lie dormant, petals folded inward.

In the cathedral of solitude, stained glass windows refract memories, Each shard a prism of fractured emotions—love, loss, longing. The pews remain empty, their wood was worn smooth by the weight of silence, And the altar, once ablaze with fervour, stands cold and forgotten.

The sun rises, casting shadows on the walls, Its golden fingers tracing the contours of emptiness. Yet the warmth fails to penetrate the icy core, Where frostbite clings to veins like a desperate lover.

Outside, the world spins on its axis, heedless of our detachment, The laughter of others is a distant echo, as if heard through a thick fog of indifference. Their mirth reverberates against the fortress of our apathy, a mocking reminder of what once bloomed within us.

Detached, like a solitary leaf adrift on a silent pond, Its connection to the tree was severed by invisible hands. The veins that once pulsed with life now carry only echoes, Whispers of forgotten summers and autumns.

The colours of life blur into monochrome, As if the universe drained its palette, leaving only grayscale. The crimson of passion, the azure of hope, All muted, like faded photographs in an old album.

And the symphony of existence fades to a whisper, Notes scattered on the wind, lost in the vastness. The crescendo of joy was replaced by a haunting refrain, A dirge for the emotions we abandoned at the crossroads.

But perhaps, in this detachment, there lies a refuge, A sanctuary from the storms that rage within. An armour forged from numbness, shielding vulnerability, A survival mechanism when emotions threaten to overwhelm.

We wrap ourselves in indifference, a cocoon of self-preservation, Hoping to emerge as something less fragile, less breakable. The world becomes a distant tableau, observed through frosted glass, Its beauty and brutality softened by our detachment.

So we drift, untethered, across the vast expanse, Seeking solace in the emptiness, Our footsteps leaving no imprint on the sands of time. We collect shards of moonlight, and string them into constellations, Mapping our isolation against the celestial canvas.

Until one day, perhaps, a spark will ignite, A comet streaking through our dormant skies. It will pierce the veil of detachment, searing our numbness, And we'll find our way back to feeling, to connection.

For now, though, we remain emotionally detached, Navigating the currents of life with stoic resolve, Our hearts encased in ice, waiting for a thaw. Hoping that somewhere, deep within, The embers of passion still flicker, waiting to be rekindled.