A declined invitation

I remember the night death offered me

a tempting invite to fall asleep,

wrapped in anaesthetic snow.

Closer to caring about the icy, cold release

of unbearable, mangled tension,

than I was about waking up

the next day.

I imagined, sliding down the sword-sharp chute of 'given up' and landing by the river to blissfully freeze in a wayward,

drifting demise.

I declined.

He came back, with a wounded fracture crowbarred open by rusted metal, and incessant desperation to control. His own guilt - a formidable shadow, eclipsed my view.

So I sat, head in hands, with no saviour on my side. The only road lit was a hot,

angry release from the bars of

intolerable anxiety. A road that lured me, willed me, to crash my car.

"Escape" he whispered.

Dreams replaced with paralysis, haunting sanctuary, safety, and home. Screaming demons piercing the early hours of new days, and prolonging the nights.

He was losing his grip.

Now only able to reach me between asleep and awake, I dropped fear,

took his hand,

and let him drag me down.

There was - no resistance.

And it killed him.