Chin on my knees, surrendering,
Allowing the heavens to bury me.
Hot water showering, clouds collect beneath me;
Cold, toes fixed against the porcelain wall,
And pools collecting in my ears, like rain.
Tears race towards the shower drain.
Have I finally gone insane?
What a tortured, lonely, lost cause I have become;
That’s not very kind.
No one knows just how severely I’ve come undone.
The shadow of my silhouette,
How pretty, she says.
Living amongst the dead.
Flowers by my bedside, my hair soaking wet.
I remember when we met, she sits across from me,
Eyes yellow and glowing.
Atop my bed.
November comes to collect fallen leaves.
As joy comes to die.
Why do you cry? She asks, but knows why.
If I answer, I’d only be telling her lies.
So I reply, It’s these times of night I feel most alive.
