i am sat next to you
and twenty other people
though i am listening to their words
i am fixated on yours
like lyrics to a melody that i’ve heard before
your voice is like a winters drink
it is a hot chocolate with a shot of whiskey
it is a mulled wine, too sweet to be bitter.
it is scratched and weathered and tired
but it drips like molten glass
and all i want is to bathe in you.
I feel as if there will never be another tock.
And the ticks are driving me insane.
My brain, alert, as it has been for the last thirty seven hours.
Thirty seven hours, forty one minutes and thirteen seconds.
That was the last time I was asleep.
In which I dreamt of genetically engineered grass a shade too green, flowers a little too bright and the sun shining.
But now all I see are shades of grey, muted colours so I can tell what they should be but what they are, is grey. And what fills my eyes and my heart is grey.
I feel as though I am in a haze of mist, my chest unable to reach all of the air it’s due, and in return causing my heart to beat slightly faster.
Now, when I close my eyes all I see is the image of you and her and the image of my mother crying.
Do you understand how hard it is to see your hero cry?
Do you understand how hard it is to know that your favourite person in the world is hurting beyond belief and you are powerless?
Do you understand how much I needed you, how weak I am, and how much I hurt?