Inhaling the Light While Choking on Salt
mourning, day four-
light, pure, clean light. pulling itself through the curtains. just once I wish the street was silent. I beg the earth for a sinkhole, an earthquake, a tsunami. take these loud things away. swallow them whole, and when you’re done, swallow me too. nothing happens, as I had feared.
of times past. of moments I had forgotten. him reaching for my hand for the first time. and I thought: I have never been so full of happiness or felt deserving of it. night- “you know I really do love you”. and the room starts to melt, walls turning into rivers of paint and thick clumps of drywall. exposing the skeleton of boards hidden. I scream and scream and scream. I’m alone. he’s gone. and I wake up. and it stings all over. my muscles twitch, my face crumples, but I cannot cry. they’ve been all used up. I lie.
morning, day four-
the salt rolls down. caressing the curves of my face. how I wish for the comfort of his fingers, but the earth won’t indulge me, and God remains quiet. I breathe. deep breaths. from the chest, pushing sternum to spine. but the salt falls into my cup. spoiling the milk I have poured to make the contents less bitter. what a waste I have become.
Prompt: Milk. Provided by @thatrandomprompt. Thank you!