Slightly morbid - make of it what you will. |
Make a Wish It is cold and dark, and I lie Alone, wondering why – and where – I am. Am I still for the time being? No longer. Voices fading, hushed and mournful. The penny drops, and falls To the floor, yet there is no sound. It means something, I know, And a memory stirs fitfully In its sleep, rolls over, and is lost To the night. My eyes are bright With tears, yet I have forgotten Why I cry. Or are the tears mine At all? I feel nothing now – Numb from below my neck Broken. Or do I remain only above the neck? My body – left in the cold darkness In which I awoke, afraid and alone; Wood on all sides and suffocating, suffocating Blackness and oblivion. What is left? I don’t know What is right, anymore. Is it wrong to be left Alone? The voices are fading. My head remains, all confusion and puzzled frowns, Watching the impossible tears fall in glistening Currents around my feet. Currents, like shrivelled grapes; My shrivelled skin, too long in water – Rotten, and assaulted before the tide. Memory stirs once more. The penny Shines in the depths of the pool The tears made. Make a wish. But the penny has already fallen, And the meaning is lost to the darkness. Wishes lost, dreams lost…something lost. Something taken: a wish fulfilled – Be careful what you wish for. Memory creeps through my eyes But my head hurts, so I turn away, And memory retreats along with my mind To the relative refuge of cold and dark Wood on all sides. I lie alone and listen As the mournful, hushed voices fade. Fading. Fading. Faded, and silence. The penny drops. Made a wish? |