Segments Of Mind

The laughter in my dreams is keeping me awake. Do you know me, still? And where are you now?

You live in my mind and I’m hard pressed to find any proof of your previous existence. I reach out in hesitation, is it better that I laugh and smile, despite this stipulation?

This absolutely reeks of desperation, but isn’t that what I am? Desperate? No. Alone? Closer. Most days I scream into the echo chamber where you used to live.

My heart aches, my bones break, they tell me “god, just get over it.” but when I close my eyes I see your face. Every step reverberates with you, and I no longer know what to do.

The silence falls upon me in waves, drifting through this numbing haze, I think I see the ocean floor. I’ve never been this deep before.

The dreams tied to my ankles keep me safely weighted down, and hopes cling sticky to my chest, beseeching me to drown. 

My body is pulled apart, segmented. My once beating heart again dented, and I’m fighting now for air.

In this nightmare you’re there. You see me and I call out, but bubbles are all that fall out. With a flick you flit away, leaving me to this decay

Breath boils in my lungs. Feverish, fickle, “she’s so young”. Tears don’t show up underwater.

Waking from my death I sputter, breathing deep I feel another

Wave coming on.

A siren’s song.

I wish the numbness could be gone.