Pretend That You're Alone

In a house I cannot call home, I sit alone.
I scribble secrets of love and hate and sex and lust through pens that are always almost out of ink and inspiration.
Cold wisps snap at the inferno that rests upon my vampiric scalp and threaten to freeze over the churning ocean inside my thick skull.
Knobby knees and scarred tissue on dry skinned thighs play hide and seek from underneath a ratted comforter that has seen good days and bad days of the introvert soul that sought comfort and warmth in its old threads.
Soft feet as wide as oceans and long as tales wrestled each other in a frantic scuffle to occupy their time as their owner tapped away on a small screen of release and honesty that lifted the worries off her shoulder of the evil pair of suppressive creators crawling primitively across tile surroundings and babbling madly of traditions and hell as if they were God himself.
Her soulless heart and heartless soul became one and created a love child of bliss and passion inside her overburdened chest and for the first time in an eternity, she smiled, bearing her crooked yellowed teeth to a world that encouraged her to hide such flaws so no one would be bothered by her individuality.