Drowning | ✓

Sinking

Beep, beep, beep,

beep, beep,

beep.

He was still and quiet in a way that he

never was, his only conversation

his overly regular breathing

and the drumming of his

whirring machines, desperately trying to

thread him back to life.

He didn't speak when

I whispered in his ear or

when I cried over him, little pools of

tears running mirrors down the creases of his chest.

He didn't stir when I said

"I love you"

or when I begged him to

wake up.

I kissed his lips but

they were cold and

they didn't taste like honey drops.

His eyes were closed

so I couldn't see summer - and

everything seemed so bleak.

He was pale and

purple and

red with

bruises dappling his porcelain skin and

blood drying in traintracks

on his forehead.

I stayed for hours

on end

but it seemed like days, months even.

Sleep evaded me.

Everything slowed to a nauseating crawl.

The air seemed to thicken.

And then the beep

beep beep

suddenly stopped and I looked up in

terror,

pure, agonising

terror

as the machine stopped

zig-zagging and instead just

flatlined.