She Fell

Her lungs scream

but not from use.

She’s falling, not down

but into,

further until

she’s completely

consumed.

Restricted by

her body’s desire

to defy its

failure

but embraced

instead by the

decline of her

eyes-

of her

light.

Just give me one more morning.

I don’t want to be alone.

Please— no!

I can’t bear my fear of the night.

She reaches,

yearns,

scrapes,

for a bit of sun

without

the ache.

She finds a small stream of

glistening escape

behind her once

pigmented eyes and

she’s determined

to grasp,

to seize.

Held tightly, she is

made free of her hope

until she’s

enveloped in

acceptance

and almost

peace, or

maybe defeat.

It’s without the

warmth she thought

she’d recall.

Instead it’s a slick

and wintry burning

of neglect in her

chest and an

eagerness to

encourage the

ultimately

inescapable

fall.

Her death took its time

with its answers

and with taking

her life but she grasped its

whispers when she finally

released,

ceased.

“There is no ultimate test.

Let me cradle your neck

as you forevermore cease to hear

because,

you see,

my dear,

I am nothing to fear.”