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Slow Silence
Lips shut tight.
Slowly being sewn by a shiny, thin needle.
Fragile but sharp.
Thin like a perfect strand of black hair.
It shines as the light bounces off its side.
Piercing slowly into the fragile lip.
Both are fragile.
Yet one inflicts pain on the other.
Locking its captive in its place.
The needle zigzags its way across its path made of thick flesh,
leaving a trail of black behind.
As if indicating that it was there and left its mark to be remembered.
Words no longer slip.
Only silence.
Only thin breaths of air escape from the bounded lips.
Whether others are happy about this...
the damage is already done.
There is no need to waste anymore time.
No need to waste anymore breaths.
Feeling dull with the black thread holding down the soft lips.
The application of red lipstick is added for color.
The color of blood.
Crimson blood.
The sign of an emotional flood.
-Snow that flutters down like feathers