Dying

I needed to hear the words as they were spoken to me, 

Though they touched my heart like a knife 

And as the nighttime peered in through the windows, 

I could only wish that I was home. 

I held on so tightly as if gravity was my gravest threat, 

Still listening 

But wondering how I got here. 

My mind endlessly sifted through memories 

While frantically making new ones, 

Hoping for something 

While faithfully disoriented in a tiny room 

Filled with furniture that was constantly rearranging. 

I asked myself as discreetly as I could 

For some sort of answer or a detailed map perhaps, 

But my focus kept being pulled back to him. 

My presence felt useless, 

Not only here but everywhere 

As there was no real purpose to the roles that defined us. 

Confusion ran rampant as it so often does 

As the words, the night and all that surrounded us 

Began to quietly fade from existence. 

It was in this moment 

That the very thing I had been breathing for ceased to exist, 

Taking all reasoning and hope with it. 

I would have died for this and now this is dying.-