Themes

Good Night

Disclaimer: Sexual violence, triggering and detailed. If you will be reading this, be careful and please avoid reading this if you know it can trigger past trauma.

It's 12 o' clock and I need to sleep. The stars have shut their eyes, the moon has pulled it's covers and the world is entering its REM cycle.

The sandman has sprinkled his sand on the children.

Dreams are being painted in the hues of life, beauty, and aspirations. Dreams are being painted with hope.

Yet, I can not dream. I am stuck with a black canvas, everything dark.

I don't find it necessary, it's almost as if life is put on hold everything you close your eyes, and I can't stop staring back at life.

It was all too chaotic, every time I stare back everything is coming right back at me. My life was the dream- but a dream with hopes and aspirations just a dark, dark canvas with the slightest spotches of white.

Everything so clear
But really it's all the emotions that are so clear.

I, I dream in feelings. I dream with the senses of everything beyond sight.
My emotions are the construction of my image and my image a reminder of what was what it was.

I don't talk about it much, hell I try not to mention it. When I do mention it, I can't stop.

A cold, dark evening- just another winter night. Snowflakes had already kissed the ground and the purity rosed my cheeks. The rhythm of the city zoomed underneath me, lights whizzing off into space.

But it was just me, just doing the usual.

The usual.

I climbed the stairs, the huge mountains that led to the bridge. The bridge that hung off over the traffic.

But it wasn't just me, it was you.

I kept walking and I stopped before the entrance of the bridge.

I thought you were another loiterer. Just another person smoking their life in puffs like train smoke. The light beaming off on and on. Smoke mixed with winter's breath.

But you were not one of them

My hopes flew out the window

My aspirations buried themselves in my regret

My life was gone

You leaned on the netting of the bridge.
You tapped your fingers in a waiting fashion on the gun.

I remember how many times you tapped. Each time I couldn't breathe mdore than the last intake.

My heart raced

Panic raised my temperature

The snow on my cheeks began to melt..

I looked straight at you. The only piece of hope left in my eyes.

My hands shook
My tears rushed

I stood still

I was already frozen with death and the safety wasn't even released yet.

My heart felt like the weight of the gun in your hands.

Your gloveless, waiting hands.

I'm sorry mother, I'm not going to make it home on time.

I'm not going to see you tomorrow.