Leoanda Taylor

It was cold. Ever so cold. I couldn't feel my finger tips, nor my feet. The icy chill spread up my legs and arms. My ribs hurt as I took in every breath - a white mist spreading from my mouth. Small icicles danced along the thin strangly strands of my dark hair. My cheeks were flushed, and I was sure my teeth were chattering, Although I couldn't here anything. A deathly silance surrounded my, wrpping the darkness and cold into one large blanket covering the world. I almost expected blood, hot and sticky, to be making its way down my chest, arms and legs. But there wasn't any blood, because nothing was sharp enough to break my skin. I cursed in my head. I could've said it out loud, but I wouldn't know, my voice was different from before, and I don't know what it says because their are many voices, with many questios. Of course, I still couldn't hear these voices either. The silence of death always has a grip on those who want it. Deaths grip. Strange. I once feared it, yet now I want to embrace it. Damn cold. Now I can't feel anything. Not even you. Damn it all!