The Untitled Anguish

The mountains were covered in its perfect white tinge, hiding the comatose soil underneath it. The wind blew with its lethargic self, kissing her barely clad body slowly – embodying her scars, like mocking a carcass to relish real feelings. She could hardly feel the cold; her body was as numb as anything could, but oh dear, how does one rank numbness? She let her feet drag her forward into nihility, an equivocal illusion of her inner self- empty and feeble. Her skin had turned pale; she felt the snow beneath melting slowly. Too tired of everything around her, the hopelessness never seemed to leave.

She started to run, wanting an exodus. Like the unsaid words that must be told bottle up, trying to escape the cage. Like tears that might ease her up demand to be perceived, struggling to spurt out of her deep shallow eyes. Like the chest that impairs needs to be embraced and heart that races its ache needs be calmed. Like, like the person drowning hopes to be pulled up and the moon waits for the night to be cherished on. Like everything but still nothing. Gathered yet scattered. 
She wanted to break free.

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The van stopped suddenly. She hit the front seat with a thud. Agony ran through her left leg. Her face was burning then, she realized that she has kept it hidden on her lap for quite a time now. The mist on the glass window has by then broken into tiny droplets.

It rose like smoke. Dithering, then it flew away - but the words remained unsaid and the tears remained held. The chest impaired to numb and heart raced to a final pause. The person drowned to an ultimate death and moon still waited for its borrowed self.

She gasped and her lips turned into a smile. Levi Patel continued to knit the magical chords through her headphones. The journey wasn’t over yet.