6/30/19

The air is being pushed from my lungs. Slowly, Suffocation creeps up. She runs her burning hands through my hair and presses her freezing lips to mine. She moves slowly, and I don't mind. Because with her poisonous touch, comes a type of beauty. Bright lights dance across my eyes.

Where there is purple, I see the velvet of a pastors' stole, the velvet of the cushions on the pews, the velvet of the carpet. Where there is blue, I see how finite the world is, where the sky meets the curve of the earth. Where there is green, I see the soft grass that I once napped in, with my head laid gently in the dip of a past lovers' shoulder, and my fingers left to trace hearts or pull blades of grass. Where there is yellow and orange I see a sunset, left to fall across my mind for the rest of eternity. Where there are softer colors, the pastels, I see beauty. In the pastel pink, I feel the heat of a fire and the nervousness of a hand that had yet to have been held. In the baby blue, I stare into a mirror, only I am not myself, my once pale eyes now shine in a way that only living could cause. In light green, there is a glaze, as tears start to fall, my mind fogs like car windows on rainy mornings, and all I see is the small spots on my tee shirt, slightly darker, damp. There is even a pastel brown, close to beige but with more life, here I feel the hard ground that's separated from me by a single thin blanket, and I hear the soft rustle of leaves and twigs that are all around, and all I can taste is peaches, and I smell the same scent I've breathed in countless times, and I see the blue that sneaks through the canopy of leaves above, and the light that casts shadows by my feet, and the lake the sits silent like a mirror to the clouds.

I sit in the movie theater of my mind, and watch as this all reels by, silent movie style, soft music is being played over it. I think I'm alone, but there she is. Suffocation sits four rows back, and with greed in her eyes and green on her hands, she wipes a cold tear, void of any passion or empathy, from her cheek. The credits begin to roll, and before she can stop me to make small talk, I sprint from the room. She stands and as gracefully as a dancer, she takes her leave.