Chris Magazine

My heart stopped beating last night

It had only begun truly beating not so long ago

But I had become accustomed to the familiar patter

Now it has gone quiet

I continue to breathe

I still feel the need to eat

But there’s no passion behind it

I can still walk

And see

But even as I write this

There’s a cold washing over me

A darkness descending

The colors, so recently revealed to me

Are returning to gray

Yet within that dire world

There is refuge

From that which stopped my heart