Ashes and after

An alarm in my chest—

hot liquid spills,

slides down chapped lips

As I lie about what I consumed

And when.

Nightmares:

lions stalk me, chase me,

a sinking fear—

I’ll never get out.

I run from their claws,

their grinding teeth.

I find doors,

hide behind one,

but the bottom half is gone.

I’ve cornered myself again.

I’m going to die.

Eyes wide, I wake,

terror still pulsing.

There were puppies in my backpack

I was transporting them,

but I got distracted.

My mind was fog.

And then

they were gone.

What have I done?

The alarm tolls through my chest,

into my ears,

locking my body in paralysis.

In the back of my mind,

a body—the one that birthed me—

left alone for weeks.

Naked. Cold.

Her name, one more on the list.

The furnace burns.

The smell of cigarettes lingers…

the garage of our old house

full of ghost memories.

Cigarette burns

on shirts, on pants,

on skin.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

________________

In my dreams now

you speak to me.

We sit at cafés,

plan our next move.

You’ll live with me.

I’ll care for you.

You’re alert. At peace.

Perfect.

In my dreams, you’re a bride.

An angel.

A guide.

I stay.

I listen.

I don’t rush.

I don’t rush anymore.

I don’t run from the past

or wish luck would save me.

The nightmares are gone.

The pain—transformed

by the flames

that once consumed me.

The sirens are silent.

The trees whisper hymns

of liberation.

A summer breeze rocks me—

a lullaby,

cradling me gently.

I am safe.

I don’t regret.

I don’t lie.

My memories don’t haunt me.

I don’t black out.

I remember—

you, my guardian angel,

your voice like silk,

glamorous and kind.

Death didn’t trap me—

it set me free,

opened doors I couldn’t reach.

A portal.

A teacher.

There’s no running from it.

And there’s no fear.