High

My room wore nothing but darkness. The occasional flash of lightning cut through. I didn't have to think about the heavy shapes or what they entailed. There are words hidden in there. Books,old letters and notes,song-lyrics,diaries...
Tonight there's a black bag. It has words too, but they aren't important. It's the scent.
It smells of comfort and confusion. Of eye-contact and touch.
Of ruthless hands.