PERHAPS

Perhaps it’s because I’ve always wondered how I look like when I fall asleep. Perhaps it’s because I understand to well how it feels like to close my eyes. Yes, that could be it. Yes, I do know how it feels to close my eyes; for a second, a minute or even a day; to allow darkness to wash over me. Yes, to fall into Oblivion.

Perhaps it’s because I know all too well the feeling of allowing the fiery cold hands freedom; feeling their painful caress run through me. Yes, I know the feeling of them damned demons breaking free.

Perhaps it’s because I understand the feeling of losing the little control I so jealously guard. Losing to him, her, them, it… Whoever, whatever, does it matter? Right, I veered off… Yes, I understand the feeling of losing to the depth in the blank eyes of death staring at my naked self, my bare soul. Sniffing at the tatters that once were alive, beating, pushing. Reminiscing over the days of strength and fulfilment; and losing the memory of days once bright.

Yes, perhaps it’s in my understanding the feeling of mirrors reflecting esteem six feet under; the feeling of dead cold buried hope. I understand the feeling of the loss of the electricity surrounding the mystery of love; the feeling of swords and Spears without shields on the battle ground that is myself. A war that knows no cessation.

Perhaps it’s the brewing of string storms set to blow over the little remaining foundations. The last battle destroyed the power of will and the new target is the very self. And so beautifully and astoundingly I’m losing.

I’m losing to the deep drowning darkness. Losing to scary sessions of self searching; ceding space to a season of faltering strength.

Perhaps it’s because I know the feeling of further loss. Because I know I can’t open my eyes yet. It’s not time. Or rather, because deep down I’d rather drown and be damned with the demons than reach for the dawn. Deep down, the sweet sadness has become my new reality.

So yes, perhaps it’s because I know what it feels like to watch myself float away, fading, behind these closed eyes. Perhaps it’s my saving grace, since to open my eyes is to seek out a lost war, a lost person. To seek out a salvation that is slowly siphoning the little strength I have left.

Perhaps this is it. But then again, maybe, just maybe, I could try one more time. Perhaps when I do, I will know how I look like with my eyes closed.