Resting Place

In darkness

shrouded in midnight

the bed beneath

my shattered bones

doubles in size,

California wide.

Nyx chills the sheets

with her silver touch,

waves of ice

I curl my fists into

as Hypnos fails

to wrap me in arms

of warmth and slumber.

I feel small

and this cavern

feels empty.

I am nothing

but tears and

a frostbitten

voice, disconnected

from my shivering


as I dissolve into my side,

silent statue,

not starfish


Choosing to wait

for the day

you too

choose my side,

to be your final resting


to call my body


rather than disappear

without a trace.


© Kristiana Reed 2018

Painting: Auguste Raynaud

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