in between places

there is a space called the void.
falling, feet unable to grasp the stability of a solid ground;
flailing, drowning in a sea of darkness.
light minimally filters through shards
that once belonged to a whole window,
now stuck in your hands like unfitting pieces
of an oddly placed jigsaw puzzle, jutting out.
you can’t pinpoint where it hurts, but you watch
it stain red, washing away consciousness.

looking up, the sight that greets you terrifies you.
splinters of yourself, each yelling for help, for escape.
the cracks split your heart open, threatens to tear
and tracing them makes your hair stand on ends.
there is nothing here. you curl in a fetal position,
this space reminds you of what’s inside.
barren, empty of dreams and meaning, what’s leftover –
are pieces you pick from the past, like a greedy crow
pecking at small crumbs hansel and gretal discarded.

it is awfully quiet because soundwaves do not travel here.
akin to a sunken black box left behind by crashed airplanes,
no evidence left behind for people to remember you by.
how do you get out? do you really want to leave?
maybe staying is a much more comfortable option.
you can’t think.
does logic not reach you here too?

no signal to call for help and you can’t scream either.
there is only one thing you can feel. the beating muscle
in the left side of your chest, is it a countdown to the end?
you silently note the beats, murmuring the numbers
that don’t no longer make sense. maybe this space is making you go mad.
do you have claustrophobia?
the family doctor didn’t say anything about that.
then again, you didn’t know how to fully answer his questions.
what are you scared of? the void, or yourself?

you think you are more scared of the answer.

fading light at the end catches your eyes.
whether it is the train that hits you with dreadful realization,
or another window like the one you fell into,
you’re ready. your lone heart tells you so.

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