Grandmother was ill.
Layla couldn’t believe that the resilient old woman would succumb to a cold. In her seventy years, Grandmother had survived starvation, poisoning, and a gunshot to the side. A cold couldn’t touch her, or at least it shouldn’t have. Read more
I swear I could hear my heart ripping out of my chest when he uttered those last five words that I thought that I would never hear in my entire life. It was a windy day before spring break and I was standing outside of the bus pick up area in the school.
In the beginning, a blink was a few hours gone.
Then it grew to a day.
A day turned into a week.
Weeks turned into months.
Months turned into years.
And after seven years, they pulled the plug on Sleeping Beauty.
There was no evil fairy responsible, just a helpful friend.
There was no curse, except reality.
There was no spinning wheel, but temazepam.
Fear feels unwelcoming, as I look at you in a crowded room.
It’s being isolated, left alone with toxic thoughts.
The creeping weight of “what would have been?”
Sneaking up on me, in its eerie tone, haunting me.
Fear looks lonely, in the dark shadows of the night.
The lone nights spent in distress with thoughts consuming my mind.
Fear is the waking reminder you are, just but a ghost of memory.
Fear is when I wake up wanting to text you,
But I realize you probably don’t care to hear my whimpering sobs.
Fear is wanting attention
But feeling too desperate.
Fear is the nightmare the consumes reality.
Thrice Again 