You sit there shaking; emotionally frozen.
You check the time on your watch, despite knowing it already.
The ever-present numbness, the cold feeling which clutches at your soul;
That is what you feel upon the dawn of the lie.
To know its nature, to know its being;
To have it spill upon your awareness.
What words would surmise such a bitter feeling:
Perhaps the use of dejection, pain and sorrow?
All of which might be considered appropriate, given the circumstances...
Absent-minded, you reach for a pack of cigarettes,
Forgetting that you kicked the habit a few years back.
You thumb the screen of your ever-present smartphone,
Scrolling, blanked-faced, as though trying to retrieve an old-memory.
An abyssal feeling of utter emptiness...
Bitter will not suffice for the taste upon my tongue,
But it is the closest approximation to the scar upon my heart.