Hannah Lucille Ficklin

Laying in bed at three in the afternoon

With my heartbeat pounding through my eardrum

Onto my arm

That my tears fall onto in perfect time

Bum bum

Tear

Bum bum

Tear

Bum bum 

Tear

Bum

 

Thought.

 

Why am I still awake?

I could be sleeping.

I could be dreaming.

I could be not here.

Anywhere but here.

 

Distant yelling is my lullaby.

Slamming doors rub my back.

Profanity reads me a story.

"You're greedy" tucks me in.

"You're selfish" kisses my forehead.

"I hate you" turns off the light and shuts the door.

If only that door would stay shut. 

For tonight.

For tomorrow.

For forever.

 

Here is home,

But Here is hell,

And Here is not where I ever wanted to be.

Here holds my hand and doesn't let go.

Here stands in my way.

Here is a rear view mirror I can't help but to look into.

Here hates There.

And I hate Here. 

And Here doesn't care.

 

 

But maybe if I sleep.