by Megan Spreadbury
sitting in an empty room
I confided in you
so slowly did we suffer
sitting under broken shutters
the window open
my mind a blank token
of bleeding hope
as we lost sight of every rope
our hands clung to
fighting to run though
water as we were tossed
under and lost
breath so fast
every creature floating past
looked weary
for our sanity
my empty room
every flower in bloom
but no feeling
would be arising
even at the sign of currents
and suffocating burdens
that broke treacherous pieces
into glass shards so priceless
I could cut my hand open
from gripping the broken
angled mass
only trying to pick up the mess
I caused in the first place
sitting in an empty space
so far away
from the day
I was underwater
but also unbothered
saving ourselves
from the drought
I jumped in
so maybe you could live
but we sit so still
on the windowsill
blood running down stark
white fingers in the dark
where we clutch our rope…
too afraid to let go