burnt toast

Getting up out of bed, dragging his feet. Thinking it’s morning. Time to get ready, but really it’s only 3:15am.

He hasn’t noticed yet.

It’s quiet. The sun hasn’t risen, but the time still hasn’t dawned on him.

The floor feels cold, but not as ice cold as my skin feels. I am afraid for him to open the door. I don’t want him to see me this way.

His footsteps approach. The knob turns. But, the door won’t budge. It’s because I’m blocking it. Will he notice?

He gets it open just a crack. And he sees.

“Please don’t look at me,” I’m silently screaming from above. “You can’t be the one that finds me this way.”

He collapses to his knees.

For the first time, he really sees how bad things can be.

And for the last time, I really see how bad things can be.

Tears racing for the finish line. Lungs half-fighting for air. Maybe breathing won’t make this real? Maybe breathing will make this far too real?

He breaks inside with gentle force. Wiping the foam from my mouth. Pulling the needle from my arm. Cradling my head while staring into my glazed over eyes. He keeps screaming.

I stare back but cannot see. It’s all getting fuzzy. I still can see him from above. But he’s fading. It’s all fading. This was a mistake.

The world is swaying

with the gusts so strong I can hardly feel my spine.

But this free-fall feels freeing.

The cool air cradles my body like an ice bath kisses sore muscles.

I can hear them.

Rustling whispers that sounds like a crowd cheering for the finish line.

The clock keeps ticking

as the wind picks up my memories and moves me on to the next.

It was gentler than expected.

Soil is cold, but the swaying has stopped.

The blurred world is coming back into focus.

I look up to the heavens, feeling grounded and safe while basking in the quiet of the earth.

Getting sneak peaks of the sky while the others can’t sit still.

Old Blue, my friend.

Somehow the further apart we become, the closer I feel to you.