how suffocating, the silence. 

a constant companion, unshakeable. 

an ever tightening grip, crooning sweet regrets with each stroke of a shuddering curve. 

the girl slumped against the sturdy trunk, vacant look glaring hard at the scintillate of that dratted meadow and all it stood for. she wondered about snapping or lamenting, send the quiet skittering back a few anxious steps. but then, what was the point, it always slunk back mere moments later.

and she was tired.