And then I gave a damn.
Watching as the shattered glass
re-appropriated itself into other people’s lives
in a perfect, stainless script.
Eyes wide, I sat confused
living vicariously through their triumphs and breakdowns,
because the black of my own is too deep.
The poison in my own heart is to potent to wade through.
I fear death;
the kind that walks amongst the living,
with hands of hardened steel,
merciless skeletal structure,
and wings of temptation to fly on for a brief moment.
I fear death;
the kind that takes the living to the deep
and spits them out the other side.
Deep and wide,
that’s how you described the flowing of the fountain
when we were all younger.
Deep and wide,
the measurements of the chasm that separates us.
I fear death;
but not like I fear dying alone.
