𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

202 15 5
                                    

𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

Black

When eyes are shut this is what is seen.

A colour associated with feelings of sadness and despair.

Mark never thought of black as a colour.

But a shade.

Added to other colours to darken them.

But it seemed now, that black is the colour he associates with the most.

You can't darken something that's already lacking so much colour.

When he lay in bed he doesn't keep his eyes open anymore.

He keeps them closed.

Black in his vision.

Now he wanted it permanently.

His body marked with bruises.

Once so porcelain and pale,

Now so bloody and damaged.

Cracked and chipped.

His lung begging for air and his mind begging for a way out.

He sat in his room, hands shaky and vision blurry.

Reminiscing through abuse and mental drain.

Why did he fall into that?

Used for sex, beat almost everyday.

Following a path of corruption and a sickly mind.

Full of delinquents and no sleep.

Alcohol and weed for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Mark closed his eyes. Black.

He remembered times before Jackson.

Long walks with his friends.

Board games and movies.

People he could lean on and could lean on him.

That food fight in 7th grade they started,

Sleepovers that caused his parents to be up every hour to tell them to be quiet.

He missed those times.

Exhaling, Mark sniffed. His nose running and salt stinging his eyes.

It was all going to be okay.

Once the sun kisses the city goodbye, and the moon rises,

Raining it's dark sky and frigid temperatures,

He would follow the sun.

He would kiss everything goodbye.

Take what little warmth he had left and leave a memory for everyone to remember.

Like a cold winters day. The freezing people remembering the warmth and joy of summer.

Although he wouldn't make his return like the seasons or the sun and moon, he still wished to be loved.

And so, as the sun and all warm things do, he kissed the world goodbye instead of farewell and he greeted the black that he cherished.

His eyelids forever closed and the dark shadow in his sight for as long as he was no longer with everyone.

Colours ( MarkSon ) Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora