The air around me is suffocating as I press my back against the wall. I can barely see the light shining from underneath the black curtain before me and I am grateful that it is shielding me from the eyes of prying reporters.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I try to keep my mind calm as I follow my own commands, fingers nimbly winding my hair-tie around my fingers and then pulling it back off again. It was a habit I’d had for as long as I could remember and although it seemed so trivial, it helped to calm me down.

Pulling the elastic a little too far, it snaps, the ends jerking back and smacking me on the back of my hand and fingers. I flinch as the pain momentarily takes my mind off the situation that was happening around me. But it’s just a second that I’m distracted. A second of piece and relief but it’s gone quicker than it came, making my chest heave more for air.

I need to breathe but I can’t. My head is spinning and even though I’m sitting, it feels like I’m falling.

Help.

Help.

Help.

I can’t breathe. The world is rippling around me like I’m being sucked down a drain. My head is pounding and my heartbeat is deafening. The blood in my veins is burning me as I claw at my skin, trying to get it to stop. I’ve forgotten my gentle commands of breathing in and out. It’s worse than that now. So much worse.

And then it’s gone. The tightness in my chest, the hammer in my head, the heat in my veins—it’s all stopped. I’m no longer sitting in the space between the two wardrobe’s, cut off from the world by a thin black curtain but am rather sitting in the middle of an empty room, staring into oblivion.

The darkness whirls around me like a sandstorm. I can feel the tiny particles scrapping against my skin, tearing through me and biting into my bones. I screamed, running my hands over my exposed arms in an attempt to protect them. The blood starts to ooze from the invisible cuts, running down my skin until I’m sitting in a pool of my own blood, screaming.

I curl my legs under me, face pressed against the cold glass floor beneath me when I realize that I’m not on a solid floor. Beneath me, I see another me, moving in the puddle of blood, drawing a little figure on the untouched floor.

I take a deep breath.

It’s happening again.

As I close my eyes, I silently plead to God that he’ll save me from this nightmare but with every passing second, it seems to feel more real. I want out. I need out.

Struggling to my feet, I try to straighten and wipe the blood from my hands onto my jeans. The sooner I get out of here, the better.

See, I’m not trapped in my own mind but rather stuck between two folding complexes. It’s a matter of time before they lapse and I’m thrown back to reality but that might take too long. I close my eyes, dropping my head into my hands as a sob escapes. Why me? Why does it always have to be that gets dragged into these things, stuck between the dimensions that will soon die away?

The world around me shatters and I drop. I hate the feeling of falling and although I know my feet are still planted on the ground beneath me, my head spins and my stomach lurches. I struggle to keep the bile from rising in the back of my throat but as I jerk to a stop, I can’t hold it back anymore. I double over, vomiting. It disappears in an instance, fading to black.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, the acidic taste making me screw my face up in disgust. At least my stomach wasn’t bothering me anymore. I had thought it would be different this time but I was wrong. So wrong.

A burst of color envelopes me, wrapping its static-like arms around me, pulling me up and then down. This has never happened before and my heart rate spikes as I realize I have no control over what is happening anymore.

My body goes weightless as I’m tossed into the air once more, arms flaring. I grit my teeth as I land awkwardly, my knees groaning in protest. As I stand up, I clench my hands into fists and step forward. The color reaches out in an attempt to pull me back but I turn, kicking it away.

“Stop,” I command. My voice is loud and powerful, making the brightness crawl back in shock.

It's alive, I knew that. How could I not? The way it moves is enough to tell me it has a mind of its own and is struggling to reach me. I am its only chance now. Its last hope. I step back, stumbling over a strand of light that has inched around me. It wraps around my ankle and I know there’s no use in trying to fight it.

I take a deep breath.

And then another.

A few more seconds and these two dimensions will fold and I will be released back into my own world. The buzzing feeling that is slipping up my leg is painful as the light craves to cover my whole body. As soon as it gives up, it’ll die as will its world.

A sharp and sudden pain bites into my chest as I realize I’m sad. I don’t want to watch another world die, another race of life fading into all eternity. The pain won’t go away no matter how much I will it to disappear but instead, it grows. It digs into my heart, pulling and wrenching as the tears fall from my eyes. One by one, they scorch my face. The traces they leave behind are burn marks, marring my features. I want to scream in agony but I know it would be selfish for me to cry over something as small as a hurting heart. The dimension around me was breathing its last breath and I was upset about some pain?

How was that okay?

“I’m sorry,” I breathe as I relax against the cold floor. My back aches, my ribs ache, my heartaches. “I’m so sorry.”

Just as the ‘sorry’ leaves my mouth, the whole world shakes. A thunderous cracking sound fills the air and the color rears back, releasing me. I know what it is. The color knows too. It’s the end.

I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as possible as my whole body shakes. The static in the air shimmers for a split second before dispersing and falling to the ground. It sounds like someone dropped a ton of glitter onto the floor—the sound of each piece hitting the other reminded me of the way the rain fell onto the roof.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I clench my hands together and start to rock slowly, carefully. I can feel the static dancing over my body, begging me to give myself as a sacrifice to save it. With a shake of my head, the world disappears and I’m once again sitting in the dark space between the two cabinets.

People walk by, making the curtain shiver in their wake. I let out a sigh of relief and stand up. My legs are shaky and my knees give out on me but I manage to catch myself before I crashed to the floor. The curtain opens as a boy peeks his head in. He notices the tears on my face and pulls me by my wrist from the safe space and into the bright, open hallway.

“Are you okay?” Klyde asks, looking me over. He wipes the tears away with his thumb and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes search mine, awaiting my answer. “Did it happen again?”

I nod and he pulls the sleeve of my hoodie up to see the black tally mark appear on my wrist.

Seven.

That’s how many dimensions have died and drug me into them. That’s how many opportunities I had to save them to redeem myself. Seven times I’ve made mistakes.

“Testing testing,” the voice comes over the speakers, bringing us both back to reality. “One, two, three.”

A smile appears on Klyde’s face as he watches his older brother tap the mic, deafening all of us. He tugs me from the hallways and out into the auditorium that has now been set up for the banquet that will start soon.

Not only will the banquet start but also the end of the world.

I hang my head and dig in my heels as he nears the front stage.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning to me.

I frown. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” the confusion is evident on his face and when I don’t immediately reply, it dawns on him what I might say. “Ours is next, isn’t it?

I nod. Already, I can see the colors pulling towards each other, the light blue table runners bleeding into the white table covers. It skitters across the cement floor to the green plants in the far corners. It’s a matter of time.

Once again, the man’s voice sounds through the air. “Testing testing. One, two, three.”

Regret settles into my stomach as the colors turn, rushing towards me. It washes over me, making me waver. Klyde steadies me, wrinkles appearing on his forehead as he thought.

“It’s started already hasn’t it?” he asks.

I nod, unable to find my voice. Right then, when I need it most, it’s gone. I wish I could speak, could comfort him and try to find a way to stop it but I can’t. I can’t speak, can’t stop it, can’t protect him.

“I’m sorry,” I manage. It doesn’t sound like my voice. It’s higher-pitched and more like a whimper—scared.

The color pulls back from my body and flattens itself to the floor. The colors mix together, becoming stronger and darker, reminding me of a late summer storm.

The color is strange. It runs around my ankle, up my leg, around my waist, and then to my neck where it rests, slowly strangling me. It’s just scared but it’s choking me. I pull at it, trying to get it to lessen up but it just startles it more, making it constrict.

I close my eyes.

I’ve never seen a gray color before.

I asked if we could talk

So, we walked around your neighborhood

And saw men at work stripping a tree of its branches

we watched from the curb

It was perfectly healthy

Just growing in inconvinient directions

So they had to prune

I tell myself that's what I'm doing here

That it's needed or justified

Cutting us apart in our prime

#breakup #love #poetry #freeverse

> when it’s just the moon and I seeing who will give up and close their eyes first

> and it’s all the same

a stupid amount of time in my brain

> The moon is like a crystal ball, you say.

It will tell you your fortune if you know how to read it.

> coming from a place of pain

coming from a suit of blame

> would i be breaking your heart or would it be mine

> I’ve fallen asleep -- can you hear me?

> Dancing in that playful dark

after Anne Boyer

I am not skipping stones across rivers. I am not skipping pebbles, even. I am not skipping across a hopscotch chalked on cement, one-legged on the one, two on two and three. I am not skipping down a grocery-store aisle chasing reflections of fluorescent lights. I am not skipping like a child, too. I am not skipping like someone without something to lose. I am not skipping down mountains because that might hurt my ankles. I am not skipping on even ground, either. I am not skipping on the unskippable, like clouds or stars or anything fuzzy and impossible. I am not skipping over black holes or past leaf-obscured pits. I am not skipping class. I am not skipping my medicine, not again, I am over that and I swallow them now. I am not skipping anything but I am especially not skipping garbage in creeks—the little pieces of plastic would just float in the deer piss anyway.