Addiction
The clock on the wall beats a heavy, lead drum, but the seconds stretch out into years.
I am trapped in a freeze-frame, paralyzed, numb,
While my chest fills with saltwater tears.
You move like a ghost through a sun-dappled room, so light, so untethered, so high.
You are drifting aloft in a quiet, pale bloom,
While I watch from the floor as you fly.
But you aren't flying.
You’re floating, a weightless balloon, cut loose from the dirt and the ache.
And I am the anchor dragged into the dune, suffocating for every breath you won't take.
I am drowning in air, gasping hard for your lungs, as the pressure builds thick in my head.
The pleas and the prayers taste like ash on our tongues, while you coast on a soft, feather bed.
The water is rising, it’s up to my chin, I am sinking under the weight of your peace.
I’m fighting the current you’re slumbering in, begging the storm for release.
You look down at me through a glass bottom boat, serene in your slow motion slip.
You don’t feel the panic, you just casually float, While I swallow the sea for your ship.
-bleeding in the midnight drafts
