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w.g.r.It’s cold, and it’s silent.w.g.r. by XIIIHOUNDS
The soft breeze of an unspoken morning dances around my face, and the sky above me is nothing but white and grey. It’s today’s colour palette; white and grey. I’m lying on the bitter concrete, and I can’t seem to remember how I got here.
It starts raining. I know this because I hear a drop of water fall beside my ear with the intensity of a thunderstorm. It’s deafening. A different story altogether when it begins pouring on my face. It’s soft, like snow. Cold like snow, too - like frosty kisses placed upon my pale skin. Very fitting for today’s colour palette, of white and grey.
A veil of steam leaves my plump lips as my body begins to freeze. I don’t move; I can’t seem to figure out why, the same way I can’t figure out where the soft pool of blood next to my side came from.
It’s cold, and it’s silent, and I’ve lost myself in today’s colour palette, of white, and