By Sam Reeves, Social Media Director/Webmaster
It’s funny, most nights the thought of you doesn’t exist.
But then there are those nights.
The nights where the cold seeps into my bones
Hooks of ice tear at my brain.
And I can feel the burn of your fingertips on my skin.
Even months later,
I can’t escape the hellfire that is you.
And suddenly I’m drowning again.
Sinking lower and lower into the flames while the smoke fills my lungs.
My calls for mercy muffled.