night falls so early this time of year
but the contrast is still striking next to
the lazy summer evenings.
the streetlight from the alley outside
is throwing shadows on the bathroom door
long, pale, gossamer streaks of light
fractured where the door meets the floor,
where the ceiling touches the wall.
like waiting for a prowler, or an event
one to shock my heart, my every last cell
i lie there.
i cannot hear you breathing
& it makes me wonder if you're still next to me
if you're lying in the dark, pondering the shadows,
or dreaming, just floating away while i
slip under the silence
i suppose that you are
alive, that is.
i cannot hear myself either.
am i inhaling? exhaling?
i could be dying here on the pillow,
& not suspect a thing
i lift my fingers to my wrist
wait for the beating of a pulse
wait for a signal that there's life in me yet
wait for the knowledge that i
have so much more to come
i feel nothing.
my fingers search,
crawl, linger
wait.
they begin to tremble &
i mistake that for something more
but in all the unease, the suspense
of a discovery, the proof that i
did not lie here in an eternity,
i take in a breath of cold, cold air.
the streetlight still
is staining the room,
filling it with an
uncertain path.
my footsteps are uneven as i
walk towards the bathroom.
switch on the light, turn on
the cold water, confront
myself.
i get so goddamn tired these days
i may as well have given in.
i wonder if you would have stopped me?
i wonder if i'd even let you?