It was 27 minutes past 1 o'clock in the morning.
I stood staring down at her
Curled up form on the couch.
No one knew.
I reached out to smooth back her hair
But my hand passed right through.
Fingers curling into fists,
I step back in a cloud of mist
And waited for answers to be given.
But there are no answers in death.
I stare at her unable to comprehend
How she could just lie there
When I was standing here.
So I started to scream, to yell, and to shout.
I banged on the wall and slammed all the doors.
Nothing.
No one knew.
I raced up the stairs to where the others slept.
They stirred not an inch as I reached out to pinch
Their snoring, ignoring selves.
Heavy footsteps fell as I trod back downstairs
To the room in which she slept.
The clock now read 1:28.
How could this be?
How could she sleep?
I was right here!
But then again, I was right there too,
Dead on the couch.
I got really sick when I was 16 and this is my brief experience of dying for a short period of time.
