Late night

Standard

She was alone, the worst place to be. The chills would stop, her throat burnt with infection. She reached out to her logic that was clouded by trauma. This led her to a place she was most afraid, death. She would try deep breathes, she would try to convince herself she was safe but death is always right there.

Late at night she’d listen to flute music and count the falling pears that hit the roof top. She’ll wake tomorrow and confront her fear once again, that good old friend.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s