She wondered where she had gone, or whether she was within herself anymore. Somewhere behind that closed door was the warmth that was. The cold was entwining up her leg so steadily that it's grip was almost accepted with an inconsequence until the winter arrived. Does anyone even notice the deafening pleas muffled under her pores? Will anyone ever know, that her eyes are devoid of the love that once nutured within the palm of her soul?
Like grey upon grey she slips past, and you will never see her. Feel her.