Member-only story
Self-Induced Coma
A poem
“It kills me sometimes, how people die.”
― Markus Zusak
You put me in a coma,
trapping me inside this bubble of
just you and me, babe.
The world out yonder stopped spinning,
the longer we gazed through the windows
of each other’s souls.
You twirled me around your finger,
inducing me in this coma of love.
I haven’t yet awoken,
to the reality that you’re no longer.
You left this world,
having actually been in a coma for months.
But now?
Now you’re forever asleep,
and I’m in a coma.
My coma entails sleep-walking
through sleepless days
that have left my heart hollow.
I overthink what remains in this bubble of you and me,
putting a halt to all other life
constantly swarming outside of me.
My mind is clouded
with death and life
and reality and dreams.
