Dried-up

Just sometimes, emotions and their expressions dry up inside of you, without even reaching your eyes…or maybe, they do reach your eyes and burn in them black holes with their fire. They leave behind a cake-y layer of ash, their footprint. No sign of life is found, just a trail of grey dust leading all the way up to the burnt holes in your eyes, their graves. The ghosts stay back in your eyes as shadows of possibilities and wander the landscape as fleeting smoke screens, aimless and haunting. They follow the everyday banalities with staunchness reminiscent of the saints; you can smell them, those dead emotions, subdued and potent. They tirelessly wait out real time with their newfound patience and drag you backwards with their deathly hold. Your will to live free and to  breathe new, propels you forward, your numbed limbs trying to haul themselves out of the deathly marshes, tempting you to shun it all and move on, light and free. Fly. Is it possible? Will you pull free? Or will your heavyset heart sink deep and drown?