stay
I understand.
I understand how the darkness grabs you,
rises from behind, a steady swirl of smoke. How it
infiltrates spaces between fingers, uses its
curved scythe to puncture lungs, its mouth to
suck away spark and breath and life and hope. How it
spits out smothering, suffocating silence in its wake.
I understand gasps for air between sobs,
the despair that begets ravaged flesh,
its icy fingers wrapping around your throat, crushing vocal chords
and desire, plunging
the teeth of sorrow into your back,
calves, tops of feet. How it leaves you with your
jaw tight, agitated eyelids split open, unseeing,
corners of lips cracking with blood as
no sound escapes, and
logic collapses, leaving your
skeleton shaking wildly, your
teeth suddenly bared, gnashing as friction destroys, your
fingers grasping for bones
for hope
for saving.
I understand the way there is never enough
absence to calm, never enough
flesh to soothe, never enough, air
to breathe—never enough, never
enough.
I understand the urge to exorcize yourself
from yourself, fingernails
scratching, hungry for
canarge, spine dissolving, curling in
on its center as time blurs
all of it tinged with the deep violet
of a bruise so deep, a wound
so vast and new and old and hollow,
your wails not enough
to protect you as thoughts
streak down paths well traveled, roads whose signs
all point towards extinguishing your flame.
I understand forcing eyes open and shut and open and
shut and open and shut, trying to make reality
shift, wishing with all you are to wake up
someone different.
Understand the stench of fear spurting
out of holes as realization
skinks in— knowledge that this beast
will not release you, despite your pleas, despite your
threats, despite your promises, despite your
tears, despite your whimpers, despite your
submission—
it holds fast, gnawing tenaciously at your heart.
I understand
that you will continue to hurt and scream and smoke and
fuck and smile and cry and drink and
rage and love—
for this is not
the end (although, for a time, it will feel
as if this is your own ending on repeat
for eternity). I understand if, then
logic, understand weary, understand
rage, understand surrender.
I understand.
And yet.
And yet I urge, implore, beg
you to endure past the point that feels possible, past feasible, past
doable, past what feels within your capacity, past the last drop
of hope you had—
I ask you to hold on. To
know dear one, dear precious
one, that this is not the entirety of your story—
you are not finished yet.
I understand the risk, the pain, the
effort, the gamble to keep on allowing your
chest to rise and fall, to rise
and fall, to breathe,
to do this
existence
again and again and
again, night after night after night after
night, after day after day after day after
day after day.
Please, my love know there
will be a time when the grip on your throat will
loosen, the heavy shroud of agony will unravel, your tears will dissipate and
your spine will start to find it ways towards sky again—
Please my love—
won’t you stay?
-christina michelle watkins
