Sinking - like quicksand?
That slip into troubled darkness,
the ghost space of a haunted mind.
out life until the empty vacuum waits.
Waiting for the last breath
that triggers the filling; what will come?
Expecting the bite and grit
of sand and water flooding mouth and lungs,
tearing a path around the heart –
to crush the last of love.
Wanting sweet relief of weightlessness
and air; clouds of peace.
It will come, no matter what.