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Alive
Her dark wet hair lays in front of her face,
Straggly, unkempt.
Curled in a ball in the bottom of a porcelain tub,
Water beats down on her.
A scratchy voice, from over use,
Repeats how she can’t take this fucking shit,
Anymore.
You call her name,
Your voice echoes in her ears, sounding far away.
She can hear, but she can’t listen.
Her eyes are open, but she can’t see.
Everything before her is a blur.
Slipping in and out of awareness,
Not taking notice of the water,
That has turned to ice.
Is it the sound of her sobs,
Or the rushing water that makes the only noise?
Are her cheeks splattered with tears or,
Merely water?
She is breathing,
Her blood is through her veins,
She is alive.
But she cannot feel,
Even her heartbeat sounds hollow…
