There is sadness in the slow movement of her limbs. Much more than when her heart had been subjected to the unaffected.
Sometimes she wishes to slash the intermittent pages that led her to this lonely walk. Mostly she just wishes to strangle what remains of her voice.
Today you helped her put that pillow over the feeble chords till they were muffled into silence.
Don't let it hurt you too much. If you must know, all that talking the last few months, has mostly been empty chatter to fill up the air in the room.
It helped her to not feel all that there has been to.
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