"Yoongi!"

A repugnant, gravelly and annoyingly high-pitched voice called out my name. The voice that used to calm down my temper, and hastily infuriate peacefulness within me is, now, nothing but a bunch of blackly tarred blobs plopping out of her lips upon the cold, hard floor. It was just as black, thick and blank as her name is, Onyx. That one voice that used to break down my walls, and shatter my hatred towards the world into small lesser pieces is, now, nothing but a cold breath that throws itself within my warmth and sends shivers up my spine.

I remember when months ago I loved everything about her. I remember when I found all of her imperfections a number of extremely valuable, exquisite and jewel-like traits that I missed, longed, sought and yearned for every single second. I remember when her soft breaths shook against my cheek and all over my neck when she would whisper something in my ear and how adoringly I accepted and welcomed all the ticklishness that ran down my pale skin. I remember when her sudden touch would make me startled and leave me speechless and crawling, like a desperate child, for more. I do remember when her scared eyes would look thoroughly into mine to search for reassurance and security and how I would snake my arms around her for more of the security she was wretchedly looking for. I do remember her voice, her lilts, carols, and high vocals that used to drown me in so much happiness and cheerfulness. I do remember her rosy cheeks, when cold slapped and embellished them so she would become messily attractive or when they would fly upwards in shyness when I tell her one of my clichés. I do remember when her lashes would flutter open to widen her eyes along with her gaping mouth to show how content she was when she heard a new melody I created, and how much that certain reaction made me awake all night long to create another one for her. I do remember a lot of things that used to make me fly like a happy kit among the skies, and arrogantly look down on all fluttering wings of different birds underneath me, a lot of things that made me feel like a light feather in the summer breeze, contently abandoning the warmth of its home to seek another, much warmer and much safer, home.

But everything withered and decreased, decayed and, with love, deceased.

When I woke up one day and found myself void of emotions, and the only thing I felt within me was rigid and sharp emptiness that almost hurt my insides. When I looked at her, I only thought how much I don't want to see her again. When I touched her, I only thought how much her skin was ragged and ugly. When she fluttered her eyes open, the only thing I saw was darkness and blank teeming them. When she touched me, the only thing I did was flinch and, like a sinner, run away. When she called out my name, the only thing I prayed for was to never hear that voice again.

Everything was crushed and crashed. Everything was smudged and smashed, leaving me all blackly blank and devoid of void.

I sat there, on the floor