her existence faltered
in both worlds she held.
standing still, she saw herself
unable to stay awake
unable to stay asleep
and instead drifted in and out of both
being unwilling to make a choice.
she built bonds with a little white bottle
the only one who would talk to her
when everyone around her was dead
and asked it how many
would take her away.
to that, the bottle responded with,
“count.”
she swallowed the warmth
and brushed off the cold,
and flicked off everything in between.
count? count!
the bottles duplicated into
the many things crawling through her veins.
what was she to count?
the hours, the pills, the stars
the speckles of sand falling
signifying her unknown time left.
and how she wished for that sand to stop falling
the shattered glass of the minute
brushing her heavy eyelids close.
“goodnight?” she whispered
but no one was there to hear.
