maybe that wasn't really me
that
drowning
sinking
feeling
or the crisp autumn air that touched my cheeks
maybe that was just--

oh
but what if it was me?
what a sweet feeling
to know that I was alive
even though I was dying
to know that I had lived
even though my last thought
my last breath
may be the ones currently occupying
that space
in which I most certainly was--

and then when it did go black
when there truly was nothing left
and my body no longer recognized
what it saw
what it felt
what it hoped
what it dreamed
yes,
when there was truly nothing left--

ahh I see
yes,
how silly to think
that it wasn't me
brushed with the feeling of wet pavement
a glimpse of the churning grey sky
on the other side
and my thoughts became so small
that the color red became irrelevant
and my skin
such a porcelain white
touched by many hands
but none were mine--

how silly really
to think
I was still alive

-h.j.-