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

frame

as I dissolve into my side,

silent statue,

not starfish

sleeper.

Choosing to wait

for the day

you too

choose my side,

to be your final resting

place;

to call my body

home,

rather than disappear

without a trace.

 


© Kristiana Reed 2018

Painting: Auguste Raynaud

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