The light was reflecting underneath the door, just a crack. I saw it from the bed. It covered only the smallest section of the floor and didn’t touch the walls. What was out there? Who, if anyone, was sharing this space with me?

Was I alone? It was unnaturally quiet. Goosebumps occasionally pricked my flesh, but there was no wind or breeze, not that I sensed anyway. I wasn’t cold or hot.

The wooden floor between me and the door, which I assumed was locked, shined dully from the glow. I felt a momentary flash of fear, but it faded quickly. Am I stuck here, or can I leave? Did I come here of my own free will, or was I dragged forcefully? Did I fight it? Maybe I welcomed it, and came along willingly.

I should get up and try the door, I thought, escape from the empty darkness and see where I am.

But, in here, I knew I was alone. I was fairly certain no ghosts could pass the threshold and I couldn’t remember who was out there that I’d want to see. Perhaps I’d always been isolated.

I faintly remember the sensation of hands other than my own touching my skin. I think I liked it. I think it made me feel alive, but I couldn’t remember.

But there had to be more than this. I couldn’t have always existed only in this silent space. I could recall the sensation of sunlight warming me, rain soaking my clothes, and snow freezing to my eyelashes. I had liked to soak in the green of the trees and the blue of the sky through my open eyelids, trying to absorb their brightness into my own body.

It wasn’t bright in here, and there was no color.

I looked around, again, for a window, forgetting momentarily that I had already checked, and confirmed that no visual connection between myself and the outside world existed any longer.

Except for the light underneath the door. Maybe I should get up and look under the crack. Maybe I’ll do that … maybe, tomorrow.

​Did I say that yesterday?

Through time apart

our journeys split

by a sharp fork in the road

we've both expanded

​we've shifted

​here a little

there a lot

our borders have changed shape

pieces of us have disappeared

and new ones have risen up

from the ground

our amber walls remain standing

crumbled and ancient

encasing all the vibrancy inside

nestled in a valley

with the mountain above

we breathe in and out

our hearts beat

in constant rhythm

as people pass through

walking up and down our streets

wandering into our temples

taken in by a

slow, yet persistent

pulse of activity

learning about

and falling

in love

with themselves

with each other

with the journey

finding beauty in the simplicity

and depth we have on display

your charm more obvious than mine

less reserved

less controlled

freely laid bare

colorful

in a manner

I've never mastered

but I too offer an endless array

of hidden spaces

waiting to be discovered

for those who don't mind getting lost

down winding alleys

in the heat

with sticky skin

and droplets of sweat

running down their bodies

merged with you again

I've rejoined a current

a natural flow

I've been out of sync

since we parted

not daring to believe

you could still dissolve

all of me

What I feel is

droplets dripping

gently onto that spot

between my shoulders

descending from a tangled

mess of wet hair pulled back

from my face

soft sand

grainy under my feet

welcoming my toes to

sink into its depth

cool liquid

swirling around me

ebbing and flowing

against my frame

it's not

the shattering beneath

my rib cage from an old wound

reminding me of fracture

it's not

the empty space

aching dully

filled only with lost things

it's not

the mad whirl of

thoughts washing me up 

on abandoned shoreline

No,

what I see is

shimmery sunshine

glinting off turquoise

creating thousands of

shining little lights

stretching wide in front of me

sand-colored crabs

barely bigger than a fingernail

anticipating my every footstep

scampering back to underground caves

before any accidental contact

a lone leaf

tumbling down the beach

happily succumbed to the

whims of the wind

on its journey

it's not

the image of myself

replaced

bit by bit

piece by piece

in that space in your bedroom

in your kitchen

in your living room

it's not

the way the world

moves on

whether I stand still paralyzed

or rush to catch up

it's not

the picture of a girl

timid, unsure

looking in the mirror

a slight frown

turning down her lips

disheartened with the reflection

No,

what I hear is

​a wonderful quiet

interrupted only by

leaves lightly rustling

touched by the breeze

distant engines echoing

taking someone

to or from somewhere

the foamy crash

of waves meeting shore

a soothing lullaby

with varied endless tempo

it's not

the voices whispering

that it's too late

that I don't have

what it takes

what others have in spades

it's not

the sound of

my own voice cracking

asking you not to leave

while you looked at me

with sad eyes

from across the bed

or my soft voice

telling him it was okay to go

while I held his hand

and he laid there

eyes closed on a hospital bed

No,

it is none of these things

It is heat

pure on my skin

It is beads of sweat

trickling down hollows and curves

It is stillness

It is calm

until

the heady warmth disappears,

moody clouds roll in,

the wind picks up,

the sea turns frantic,

everything is

darker,

cooler,

tense,

electric,

Filling my lungs with air,

I ignore the signs

shut my eyes

stay where I am

Like a half-eaten lollipop

you left me discarded

savored my sweetness

lapped me right up

Rainbow coating

dissolved in your mouth

slowly

then suddenly

I got all muddled

and blended and

my color ran out

Now what to do

lying colorless

and sticky

and awkwardly bent

Pick me up

Pick me up

I’m half-devoured

not all the way spent