Will It Ever End?

I didn't move, I didn't flinch, 

I watched it—

I watched it come right at me. 

It was as though the atmosphere opened its fist and caught hold of my body. 

I was pinned down. 

It came closer and closer, 

and all I did was watch.

Between the worlds of death and dream,

I was trapped. 

What if that hand had never pulled me back?

Would anyone have noticed?

Would anyone even remember I was there?

The fear of being forgotten,

of being buried in someone's memory while still alive—

it haunts me.

This ache…

this miserable ache of wanting to be wanted,

of aching just to matter—

Will it ever end?

Will anyone be there to save me again?  

One hand digs my grave, the other reaches for a home it may never find. 

I'm closer to smelling like a graveyard than the scent of someone's embrace. 

All I hear is a hymn in the dark— soft, broken and off-key, 

sung by no one, for no one. 

How long until even the ghosts forget me? 

How long until I forget myself?