It was so easy to fall prey to the voices in ones head. Why shouldn't one believe them when they're coming from inside?
In a room of pure white, who wouldn't notice a red spot? It could have been in the furthest corners, but it has been throbbing like a captured, restless, and angered heart. And, unsurprisingly, it demands attention like tribal drums for a god of war.
In a space where 'Here' is meaningless; in a time where 'Now' doesn't exist... what is there left to hope for, but 'Me' and 'You'?
Still I will not regret, and still I hope for release. No future, no past, no words... No words will ever suffice the way you had captivated me and laid claim to my room of white. I could try a few such as 'silent,' 'sublime,' and 'complete,' but in all honesty, they don't give justice on how cunningly you did so exactly.
And finally, I will not forget that the heart beating is only red because of the blood that you -- inexorably, inevitably -- drew from it.
I would tell you that you don't have to apologize (and I would find out much later that you don't anyway) since ultimately, you've done nothing wrong. Nothing, that is, apart from shattering me into a million pieces.
