White dust on a black board

Her hand is holding a piece of white chalk, resting heavily against the smooth texture of the black drawing board. She starts writing, her hand pressing hard against the board as she draws each letter. White powder falls softly like a whisper to the ground.

i have a name
i have a face
i write it down
it spells disgrace

She retreats while the words are staring back at her. The edges sharp like razors. Cutting deep into her tormented soul, being held captive by a skin unable to unzip itself.

She failed him. She disappointed him. She …



The memory of him was a tourniquet .. which, at times, helped to numb the pain and stop the bleeding .. but also became the hangman’s noose around her neck. He warned her: she would drown in her emotions one day .. and she did.

She moved forward slowly, stepping closer to the drawing board, and continued writing.

without you I’m nothing
in loneliness I dwell
every step taking me closer
to the doors of hell

what is the meaning of this curse
when you are the one that I admire
to love is to lose
and set your dreams on fire

Her words don’t make sense anymore. With the white powder of the chalk resting on the tip of her black shoes, she turns around and walks away .. from nothing .. to nowhere.

Empty.

Alone.

Lonely.