Like his five senses, he takes you for granted.

You’re at his fingertips, always within reach.  Under his nose, your wilted floral scent of low self-esteem.

Always in his peripheral, he feels no need to look into your pupils.

Always within earshot, his cold acknowledgments chill the coffee you left on for him.  You’ve lost all your senses, except the bitter taste in your mouth.


Published by

Ashley Bent

I'm a 28 year-old December baby, born in Brooklyn. I'm a big horror fan and I love fiction writing. I take an interest in DIY beauty and self-improvement.

One thought on “Senseless”

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