people are cold when they’re dead. you know that, you feel that, you live that, cold corpse, cold blood, cold heart.

do you remember the last time you felt warmth? scorching flames, white-hot inferno, the burning fervor of life? (you don’t tell yourself this, but you do not remember at all.)

you like to play pretend sometimes, like to fiddle with a cheap dollar store lighter, bring it close to your fingers and watch red at your skin, watch as your flesh glows. you cry sometimes, when it really sinks in that you feel nothing.

(but let’s keep playing pretend, let’s keep saying you can’t feel it because you are a part of it, of course you can’t feel it because you are just as warm as the flame, you are not dead not dead not dead you are living and you’ve never felt more alive than right now, warm skin warm blood warm heart. dead? how ludicrous.)

but eventually the flame dies out and so does your tired little game. you are cold and you are dead and a weak ball of energy has no means of changing that.

on other days you wish you could push the sun into your chest, wish it would give you life, give you humanity and the feeling of fiery emotion and a pulse on your neck, because those were yours they belonged to you they were part of you and you didn’t think they could be stolen and destroyed (but they were) (alive, you do not remember alive at all).

so you flick the lighter in a rhythmic on and off on and off, and the heat comes and goes comes and goes, and you watch in the dark as life flickers and dies flickers and d i e s.

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10/28/14 10:35

Author's Note:
This was inspired by Carmilla Karnstein
from the webseries Carmilla.
Have you guys seen it? Do you watch it?
If you do please talk to me about it because oh my god.