Flickering memories of crimson-stained water,
light gliding along a sharp edge,
Lightning-strike images of rusted dressings,
lies to hide the truth,
fear of being caught—
fear of being sent… “there.”
Of the sting.
Of the emotional bullshit draining away.
Of the warm water striking the newly-formed memories,
setting them in stone.
A knife through the heart,
also physically painful,
at even becoming that person again…
Even during the day,
there was only darkness.
Then light was found.
Though it was fading away once again.
Desperately fighting to stay away,
shutting out everything feeding into a downward spiral into the void.
Nearly a year free.
Resistance wearing thin.
Beginning to contemplate…
That voice was a fluke.
Falling blind again.
The sun was already setting just as it rose.
Couldn’t hold on much longer.
Had to stay awake.
Nothing else working anymore.
…Back to the bad habit left behind three times…?