Air

I keep a dagger beside my bed, it has a dull, rough blade and the softest, white marble handle.

It’s the first thing people notice when they visit, and I reassure them it’s to protect myself, in case of intruders.

For once, I’m not lying.

But I’m lying in bed and I can’t breathe. 

I know what’s happening right now, 

Where it’s happening

Who-

I can’t breathe.

They crawled up bones and swallow my blood,

I’m suffocating.

My skin turns blue as I reach for the dagger,

Normally I do it as a warning,

I run my finger up its hilt and my heart quiets down,

It presses a hand to its mouth and bites down onto it so I won’t hear its screams,

But not tonight.

Air rushes into my wounds the moment the blade makes contact with my flesh,

My heart roars as I bleed tears and gasp.

It still hurts, I’m still suffocating 

I push my dagger all the way into my abdomen and it is followed by my hand.

My own heart burns my skin and I cry out,

It would be so much easier if you were quiet, 

If you didn’t invade my thoughts,

If you didn’t suffocate me.

I may be dying with my heart in my fist,

But as the silence engulfs me I’m finally at peace,

And I can breathe.