She hated that he would always be the unanswerable question in her head. The lingering enigma that taunted her before sleep. It never mattered the amount of time that went by or the happy memories she made after him.

The night that she left him behind, she learned a lesson about rationale. The right choice can be the most painful—she was prepared for that. What she didn’t expect was the anguish of freedom; for the mercy she gave her heart to haunt her.

These days, I get more sleep when I’m awake. With eyes closed, I’m helpless to fear. There’s no escape from the gnawing anxiety and I have to rationalize it or else it would eat me alive.

It grows in darkness and I imagine that it’s like a twisted Chia Pets commercial. Frame after frame of animated letters. A-A-A-Anxiety. The more that I think about it, the bigger that it gets. Except it’s not a cute little plant of a dog or a cat. It’s a nightmare.

Time passes by and I’ve lost count of the little, white sheep that I’ve been assigning numbers to. My head pounds, my body tenses and I don’t bite my nails but if I did, I would rip them off.

Instead, I tell myself to breathe. Wait. Only 8 hours to go.

7 hours.
6 hours.
5 hours.
4 hours.
3 hours.
2 hours.
1 hour.

Finally, the alarm rings a hideous sound that makes me want to slam it against a wall. It’s agony, but a reprieve from the torture nonetheless.

Opening my eyes is the only rest I can get.

An undercurrent
of shivers would brush
behind your ear
against your neck,
down the ***** of
your collarbone.
You would feel it,
the gossamer touch
folding into dusk
across your skin,
finding its way
pleadingly slow.
Umber and sienna,
the feel of your body
against the earth,
as raw and open
as being vulnerable
can let you be.
The fight against
pleasure is a battle
that you would lose,
but I would abandon
my breath just to
catch yours on the
cusp of falling.

Tortured but golden like a cursed treasure.
A glimpse of starlight can be seen submerged
in the darkest of caverns. The void is deep and threatening. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

Between the reverberating hum of anguish
deep in the core, a soft pause touches feather-light. Fleeting but present, it feels like a quick tap of silk against the heart.

It is there. The supernova encapsulated tightly.
Enveloped in shadows to cast a balance on
its wild light. Always, two sides of the same coin. Tortured but golden.

Dreams of you
like a spectacular
adrenaline rush
crashing into me
at high speeds—
both breathtaking
and fear-inducing.