Poems from Elle's perspective

I don't feel guilty

I listened to her crying
and screaming,
about how much it hurt,
and dread swamped me
until my muscles were so tense
it was starting to hurt already.

I wanted to tell her to shut up,
but she was a stranger,
and so young. So damn young.
And it would be my turn soon.

Steve tried to smile,
an awkward grimace,
and didn't say it would be okay.

It was all so sterile
and I tried so hard to be brave.

But then I floated away,
voices a mere hum
that faded out to nothing.
Maybe I mumbled something
but didn't care what,
or to whom.

I lay on my back
watching crazy patterns
slither and dance
across the ceiling,
across my eyelids.
A private party,
just for me,
and I embraced it,
entertained
and emancipated
from all my troubles.

Slowly the world intruded
and Steve's voice coalesced
and made sense again.
"Elle? You okay?"
I beamed and told him
of my adventure,
and felt him squeeze my hand
as relief and laughter
relaxed his face.


Free verse. Written 11 February 2016.