Poets logo

Spiral

on ruin

By Amanda AbelaPublished 6 months ago Updated 6 months ago 1 min read
Spiral
Photo by Fujiphilm on Unsplash

I breathe it in — the darkness.

It courses through my veins,

filling my nose,

burning as it drips

down the back of my throat.

I chase it like oxygen.

My survival depends on it.

I climb — away from ruin —

to pinnacles and summits unseen.

Feet no longer touch the ground.

Soul no longer my own.

A pulse.

A quickening.

Tingle of sensation

burns across my skin.

Heart exploding

into a multitude of sound.

Every touch feels

like a secret language

vibrating at my core.

We are a mess of limbs,

of sweat,

of heat.

Even if I hate him tomorrow,

I cling to this moment — right here —

where the world feels alive,

possible.

This is the only love I’ll ever know.

Then it slips — my reprieve.

Summit suddenly so far from reach.

No amount of clutching,

clawing,

breathing,

snorting

lets me reach that height again.

I am sand in open hands,

free falling.

Reality tearing open

as tormentors smirk at me

behind menacing eyes.

My head pounds

while monstrous hands clasp my skull,

squeezing.

Black haze consumes me.

Again…

And again…

And again…

Because if the devils

are already here on earth,

then hell is a small price to pay

for even a moment of pleasure —

the sweetest escape.

Mental HealthFree Verseheartbreak

About the Creator

Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.

Subscribe For Free

Reader insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment
    Written by Amanda Abela