On my death bed, when the light was fading and the air prickled cold and the night started to settle and let its blanket of silence fall onto me. It was soundless and that was how I wanted to remember it until his voice cracked the atmosphere, he spoke; "somnus est frater mortis" each syllable in his speech, sounded as though it was laced with every emotion possible, drowned in tears. My vision was blurred and my hammering heart was slowing down, almost at a stop. My thoughts were dissolving, memories fading, everything was slowly disappearing and my screams were caught in my throat and yet I was stoned to remain silent. "I can't wait for you, I love you too much and that means I have to join you" he pleaded, his voice struck with more painful tears. His words should have been the last thing I heard, instead my own slurred words took the lead and became the last thing I heard, "Sleep is the brother of death." Everything after that, I'll never be able to tell you.
YOU ARE READING
Words.
PoetryTo be completely honest, it's just a load of randomly plucked words from the air, infused together with some punctuation and their job is to represent the bunch of emotion I, - a tired, caffeine filled, late night worker- threw together in hopes tha...
