the nothing crept under her door last night
ushered in with a promise and lie
it nibbled on her toes at first
and she relished the chill on a sigh
/
the chill swiftly turned to numbing
that felt even better than ice
it covered her slowly, a shroud forming
the release from pain, a blessed device
/
for no longer could she feel the burning
the anger, the longing, or shame
the bruises turning to purple
the drugs, the perversion, the fame
/
the nothing skimmed even higher
forming a blade on her paper-thin skin
easing apart each slender rib
to find the sluggish heart beating within
/
what reason did she have to keep going?
the nothing could sweep her away
tucked under the rug with forgotten things
she could slowly drift and decay
/
as her pink lips morphed into blue ones
the bitter cold stealing her life
she wondered again for the millionth time
why she was born to sadness and strife
/
for the nothing sought torment and anguish
promising apathy but delivering ash
consuming the last dregs of good feelings
leaving behind a quagmire of trash
/
soon frost-bitten air settled deep in her chest
thick crystals hung from her raven black brow
she was inching and creeping and crawling for death
ignoring her word and her vow
/
then the whisper of sweet, inky honey
against the shell of her goose-pebbled soul
sunk down to her atrophied muscles
turning glimmering diamond to coal
/
the nothing's feast at last was slowing
her metamorphosis nearly complete
this vibrant girl with buried pain
succumbed to her final defeat
/
the last thump of her heart resounded
her death knell rang, keening with grief
the bottle fell from her frozen fingers
the nothing, no saviour simply a thief
/
all that remains in her absence is anguish
no solace or joy for those she held dear
a void that wants to swallow each one whole
and feed the machine that led them all here
/
for the nothing never gets weary
its appetite never ceases or wanes
how easy to invite the numbness in
not seeing the freedom bound with chains
/
there's no magic or spell for protection
sometimes this battle cannot easily be won
yet there's always a place for love and kindness
in acceptance, may a new ending be spun
~
All the love we give to ourselves and to others can only make a better world
Take care of yourselves, my friends.
Much love,
~H
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insight
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Keep reading
More stories from Heather Hubler and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (12)
Oh, my heart! I felt every single word here. I love how you paint such a picture for us. This poem is full of such truth and wisdom. You are a master, my friend!
Love your anthropomorphism of nothing making it a sentient creature feels so tangible. Silky smooth words. Lovely.
This is heartbreakingly beautiful, friend! I felt the heaviness in my bones. You are just such a incredible poet. Even these heavier pieces have an ethereal feel to them. Love your final quote as well. So much truth. Sending big love and big hugs your way! <3
"easing apart each slender rib" "sunk down to her atrophied muscles" These two lines stood out to me the most. Your poem was so poignantly beautiful! Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
Heather, this was wonderful poetry.
Every deathbed vigil I have attended over the years, you've described extremely well, Heather. And I believe you are correct, that love has the power to transform & transcend even such moments of loss & bereavement.
It nibbled her toes - I love that! The imagery of "easing apart each slender rib" was equal parts horrifying and beautiful.
This was really very good indeed.
"she was inching and creeping and crawling for death" such a great line!!!
Beautiful and seductive.
Oh, my dear friend that was amazing. The stuff that comes out of your brain never ceases to blow my mind. And yes, there's always a place for love and kindness and I treasure you for that reminder. 🤗
‘her metamorphosis nearly complete’ That line says it, this is truly brilliant and beautiful. I love how you became so prolific with poetry. You choose your words like a painters chooses colors. Every line captivated me