Tiny deaths

I touch my pulse 

to remind myself I am sane:

blood is throbbing beneath my skin

in every blue lilac vein.

 

My hands tremble,

the pillow and sheet echo every sound,

every flutter of panic

coursing – swift acting poison

through my limbs.

 

And I know this is chemical,

I know the darkness is all

perceived – intangible nothingness

 

but I am tired of tiny deaths

and saving myself from every grave.

 


 

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

4 thoughts on “Tiny deaths

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