kidsmoke.

"Our love is like cardboard," she said, "when we kiss, it doesn't taste." The truth is, it tasted like construction paper and markers. It was nothing epic, nothing tragic. She had started to remember her dreams again, but only when he was there next to her. And even then, when he was in the dreams, he was a presence she couldn't touch. In the real world, he loved to touch her. When he did, the shadow creatures that quickened her breath in the middle of the night crept into corners with the other dark things that plagued her. And when wires pumped the whispers directly into her cortex, this time, her body forgot to interpret it as pain.