I handed him the shovel, build us a foundation, I’ll stand with you forever, make it sturdy, give us a fighting chance.
Opened my eyes, to find darkness, trapped beneath the potential, the hope; dreams.
Screamed, lost my breath, traces of blood in the cover, trying to fight my way out, but potential adds more weight, tells me to give it more time, it’s almost ready.
Gasped trying to wait and not die, buried beneath the very freedom I sought. Another whisper, “I am here”. A different voice, the weight begins to shift.
Imagined potential and hope created the dream I’d always wanted. I listened to the hiss of air as I got closer to the surface.
Kicked away the cover, nails scarred into the wood, the ground drops, nothing lands above me. Another kind of darkness surrounds me.
I called for you, where have you gone, lying on the ground, skeletal remains, a body that I once loved, eyes blinded, defeat drooling from lips I once feigned to kiss.
I held on to you, but heard the whisper, “you’re sinking, who will you be, if you lose yourself again”
I let you go, my arms stripped, yours filling with stolen flesh, stolen life, I crawled from you, ran my hands over our plot, found the shovel; removed the dirt from my box.
Rolled you in, hands burning at every touch, I took the cover and nailed it shut. The mewling tore me to pieces, but I knew it was you or it was me. You gave up, I knew I couldn’t. My arms rose and fell until the cover couldn’t be seen. A eulogy was all I had left, tears surged from me, knees betrayed me, hands forsook me.
I dug, screamed I would never let you go, your roots took hold of my legs, your poison already seeped and birthed from the earth to remind me I belong buried, hidden from the sun. A whisper, “how long before you truly learn; a dead man does nothing but kill a live woman, who will you be?”. But,
I can’t let you go, even as I watch the ground make room for me, I feel the pressure around my thighs. A yell, “who will you be?”, a hand reaches down to me.
I hear your cries.
I see a whispers hand, light pours from every fingertip. My wounds begin to heal, the pain lessens, tears slow, I feel the poison draining from my soul.
I touch a whisper, no longer a voice, a being, like a thread pushing through the head of a needle, the light travels within me. The edge of the plot in sight, the cries of desperation slight. Sand beneath my feet, the light now surrounding me.
I look over my should, release a sigh of relief.
I could breathe.