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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1084492
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?
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