Silence

She stopped writing. Somehow, somewhere she lost her voice. What is the value of mere words in a worthless fading world. The rose is dying. They cut her life supply. She looks now in the eyes of strangers wondering how this and that would be her friend; could be her friend. She wonders what warmth feels like. Those smiles kill her, the smiles of two people who talked cordially to each other. Fake smiles for sure; they too will die. She looks at her reflection and cannot recognize it. Does it show, that reflection of mine, that I have given up? She wonders.
Silence.