A/N: I have had a bit of writer's block for sometime now, due to a breakup I experienced over a month ago. I wrote this on the month anniversary of the breakup...sad but enjoy, nonetheless. Thios is my raw emotion and love for writing pouring out onto paper....

Flickering

A flickering lamp lights up my features. One single, rippling tear cascades down my cheeks. I shudder.

This mirror I find myself staring into, with its dancing reflections and cold, seamless glass surface, had to be some trick, some sick game.

I honestly don’t look this far gone…do I?

This question echoes, bouncing off the recesses in my darkened mind. My finger raises up, scratching at my face where the now dried tear rolled down. I feel the pale skin tear under the weight of my nails, a tiny pooling drop of crimson blood covering my fingertips.

I am such a mess.

My hair casts grey shadows on the walls behind me, each frayed end all tangled and disoriented and out of place. My stomach lurches with intense pain, some form of a hurt long buried into my memories now taking compete control of my weakening system, pulling at every heart-string, tugging at every hurtful word, every last drop of memories of that boy I love that I have ever kept within me, bringing back the most intense surge of brokenness I ever had envisioned.

It’s worse than expected.

I topple over, covering my bleeding face, feeling hot tears well up inside my red eyelids, watching in the poor reflection of that disgusting, tainted mirror the person I refuse to believe is actually me breaking down, falling away, and shattering completely.

Love isn’t supposed to do this to me. Love is supposed to be warmth, affection, tenderness; whispers, surprises, secrets.

Love was supposed to be him and me.

But now, it’s only me.

I am clawing bear handedly at my flushed face, enveloping myself in these overwhelming, sweltering hot emotions pulsating from the boy long gone, the boy I wanted yet had only for a moment, the boy that didn’t love me.

He’s probably sitting in front of some glow from a television set, laughing tears of happiness from some funny stunt pulled on that electronic system, not giving the relationship far off a second thought.

I’ve given a million thoughts.

And I’m crying tears of pain.

A pain only described by those enthralled in a bleeding cell of love, only to find their lowly selves caught inside a web so strong, so tight-weaved, that escape isn’t impossible, but completely improbable.

That reflection is still staring back at me.

That flickering lamp goes out.

I wish my love would go out….

I wish it all would just go out…