I woke to the annoying beat of my heart,
that relentless metronome,
proof I’m still here.
Hours pass without movement.
Pain fires through my chest,
each heartbeat a bang too loud,
too close,
a sound I wish would stop.
It’s the only thing I hear—
that and the reminder
that no one is coming.
I reach for you anyway,
hand outstretched,
and get no answer—
just a joke where comfort should be.
You cry when I go quiet,
when I stop leaning on you,
as if silence were betrayal
instead of survival.
I sit perfectly still.
My head is full of noise,
static crawling through my hands.
My heart aches,
then slows,
and in that thinning rhythm
there’s only one thought left:
I wish I’d die
right here,
right now.