Trapped in these four walls,
Not knowing where to turn,
There is nothing left for me,
But to silently scream.
Glass is easily broken,
And permafrost never melts.
I am confined to this existence,
Where there is little else to see.
A sharp thorn in my side;
How cold it is within this place,
In this pallid room of gray,
Ice packs like styrofoam peanuts.
Take my fist-sized heart,
It is the only color here,
Inside this stifling space.
I breathe my last breath for it.
For it! For life!
For color! For sound!
For sight! For warmth!
For touch! For you.
Anon, my pulse will cease,
As I stare through these walls.
And ignorant, so negligent;
You don't know I die for you.
My lungs expand once more,
And my eyes flutter weakly.
My heart on the floor,
My head in my hands.
Coughing up blood,
Blood! Colorful blood,
Does relieve the dreariness,
Of this ashen place.
A hemorrhage, an aneurism,
Or perhaps asphyxiation.
I cannot breathe, I cannot hold on;
These four walls are closing in.
No! There is you, always you,
Always your face painted under my eyelids,
That silken voice so long ago memorized.
You; my saving grace, my lifeline.
Your name on my lips;
Drawing in a shaky breath.
There is you. There is love.
There is light. There is life.
