When she fell she thought that she could be saved as she forgot how to breathe
When she collapsed she thought it wasn't the end as her lung crumpled
The beeping sounds fill her numb brain and she thinks this is a new beginning as the machine breathes for her
The heart that's too weak to function, she thinks, will keep on beating as her eyes close against her will, hushed by a morphine lullaby
Her mother cries when they're told two weeks but she thinks, I'll finally not be in pain anymore as unwelcome tears pierce her eyelids
She knows it's ending on the third day, and she thinks that she's glad, because today is her birthday as she slips into the last induced coma sleep state she'll ever been in
The machine flat lines, her tired heart has given out, and she thinks, thank god I don't have to work anymore
2- She's fallen much too far this time. Her bones are shattered. Her weight was far too much for her fragile bones to support anymore. She's abused the substances that kept her alive and it's far too hard to rise about the clouds now. Her face collapsed under the stars and the pieces were sprinkled across the moon. She's gone, all gone.
Collapsed and destroyed by the only thing that kept her alive.
3- they never gave into the cliches, they swore the love would be for a rainy day. but the sky was dark and the clouds were low so maybe the warmth of hearts laid bare was what they needed. they showed each other everything they owned, held close in secrets closeted lest they be let loose in honesty. she's done things he's regretted, and he's said things she hated. but at the end of the day, they hold each other close. cliches of old suddenly new in each other's arms.
4- Grandma's rocker never creaked, until Grandpa died. Grandma never started to forget things, until Grandpa died.
She never talked to people who weren't there, or fell down the stairs, till he was gone. Never whispered curse words under her breath, sour, not sweet and smelling of peppermint candy. She'd always held me with the softest of touches, but now everyone pushes me away from her with unnecessary roughness, 'Grandma can't hold you, she's too sick.'
They try to tell her that she's going, though I don't understand where she's going, but where ever it is, she's leaving for there soon.
Grandma never had to sit down and rest when we played, till Grandpa died. She never had to miss her beauty appointments because she was tired, till Grandpa died.
