crayons without a color

We sat in silence, paralyzed by the absence of advice or thoughts.

I tried so hard to muster up something short and quaint,

You yelled you felt like you were burning.

“HELP ME, EMILY!”

We were safe. You weren’t on fire, but we feel it.

Perhaps sometimes without realizing why.

Slowly ashes accumulate, but just of your thoughts.

The sight of your desires being ignited pierces.

How am I on fire when I feel like I’m drowning?

Or is it just the feeling of fear

consuming me telling me I am burning.

It whispers the dark thoughts I can’t even sketch.

Slowly I inhale them into my mouth and I try to hold them in.

Hide them as to forget they could be.

I can’t allow them to venture to my lungs, I exhale.

Still their taste lingers in my mouth and I can’t explain it away.

As it empties my conscious, I envy your coherent thoughts.

My eyelids beg for each other as night whisks away the open sky.

Attempts as darkness leave me awake with the sun.  

Sitting in ashes, not sure if they exist or if I needed more words.

Fear cripples while trust is a crutch I need.

Words are absent and thoughts are overwhelming.

Think with me while the smoke consumes the air and as I learn to walk with precaution and assistance: trust.