a collection of loneliness

When I Died

The leaves of the old Oaktree were moved by the wind and the stars shine brightly through the darkness. There were no streetlights, no lights from the warm living rooms of the people sitting at home, no lights from bright neon billboards. The grass was wet under my bare feet, and the wind rushed through my hair. A shiver climbed down my spine but not of cold. I heard a sound, like whispering people. I turned around carefully watching and listening, trying to locate the sound. It seemed to originate everywhere. From the ground under my feet, from the leaves of the tree, from every star of the night, from every trunk of cut trees, from every sad soul in the universe. I loved listening to them. Concentrating on one of them at a time, and listening to their stories.

I sought out a voice, that was of a higher pitch than most. A child. "Tell me your story", I said and sat down on the damp grass. She was shy, I could hear that in her voice, like most of them, she was not used to being heard.

"When I died, my momma cried.

when I died, my father cried.

when I left, they couldn't forget

it kept them full of regret.

With every breath,

I faced death.

to an extent,

that every last attempt

drove me closer to the end.

they couldn't comprehend

how the last silhouette

of my being fled.

though full of panic

deadly magic.

I lost my determination

Due to suffocation.

When I died, I knew how they lied

When I died, it felt so light

But still, there was this fright.

That when I died

They never tried."