Breathe

It's not very long, but it expresses what I wanted it to.

I sit here, looking at the floor, barely seeing, focused on my breath. In and out, I breathe deeply, counting up to ten and back down again. I am calm now. The storm that raged inside me has gone. A passing tropic, nothing more. It is dark now. Where did all that time go? Did we waste it on things that never mattered? I look up, slowly, slowly, I don't want to disturb the peacefulness. I can hear you. Faintly, I can hear you. I wonder if I'm crazy. It's not impossible. 

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I am disheveled, yet mirror me looks perfect. My reflection is mocking me, and I do not like it. Like a child that's been stung I shoot up, my body rigid and tense. Now the peace has gone. Mirror me has disturbed us all, she has woken the sleeping wrath. I glare at her, and she laughs, a high pitched laugh, that seeps into every sinew of my skin. I bare my teeth, like a wild animal, and prepare to sink that into her smooth arms, so perfect and soft. 

She withdraws, defeated, and I am faced with a picture. A snapshot of what my life has now become. It is recognizable as me, myself, but it looks like I have lost my sense of self. My hair is matted, how long since I washed it? My clothes have stains on, when did I last change? My bare feet are cold and bruised, I have kicked the bed one time too many. A silent tear creeps down my cheek, burning with warmth. My stomach grumbles, yet I ignore it still, it is blocking you out.

I though I was crazy, but no, it is you. At least, it looks like you. It can't be you though, and I draw back, hide my face in my hair. When I peep out, I am still alone. I sigh, and sink back down onto the bed. I crawl along to the pillow, and sit, hugging my knees tight. My hand reaches out, gently soothing the picture of us on the table. I strain to hear your voice, but you've gone again.

This time I let the tears run freely. They clean my face, but don't cleanse my soul. How long has it been since I saw you? I don't know. Each day rolls into the next. Time passes, but it doesn't wait for me.

I slide down and bury my head in your pillow. It still smells faintly of you. I am crying still, but my face is dry. I have run out of tears. I sit again. How long have I been here? I do not know. I don't count the hours, days, months. And yet I sit here still, counting up to ten and back down again. Focused on my breathing. Although it is the one thing that keeps me from you.

Author's Note

Please, constructive criticism is welcome, but if you have nothing constructive to say, don't. You can say you didn't like it, but don't be mean about it. Thank you.