The day my words died.

My words are dead. My inner self is dead. My heart is dead. What I feel, is pure emptiness. Raw, discovered, not ashamed emptiness. I no longer feel my body, as if I'm carrying the weight of the world. As if my thoughts don't have life anymore. I am empty, weightless as a new leaf. I see, I feel. As if I'm dying inside him, little by little but I'm fighting to survive. Stretching, screaming... How it hurts, even with the heart closed.
My hands are dead, I don't know how to write anymore. Lost the words, the world, full of significance in a place where coincidences are called love. With capital L. Love.
I am dead because my words are dead. Wonder if they will get alive someday. Maybe it's their path. To remain dead.