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You wake up, greeted by a constellation of lights.

Are these stars, are you in heaven, are you finally dead?

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Your eyes, adjusting to the lights, realizing, it’s a hospital ward.
You try to remember how you got here.

What do you remember?

Your mouth, swollen shut from all the years of not speaking out.
Your mouth spilling all the things it had held back.

Your words, strange to your ears, accusing, berating, complaining, deciding, no more, no more.

His fist, in your mouth.
Your tongue, tasting warm blood.
Your mouth spitting out a tooth.
Your eyes, watering.
Your heart, breaking.
His fists, everywhere.
All over your body.

Your hands, shielding your eyes.
His hands, prying them away, seeking your eyes, pummeling.

Your vision, fading, fading, faded….

Your body, writhing, bleeding, praying rejecting.

This can’t be love, this can’t be love.

Your consciousness, fading.
Your consciousness, returning.
A constellation of lights.
Are you in heaven?

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Post image by jason jenkins via Flickr.

About the Author:

portrait2-imieghaPhidelia Imiegha loves to read and sleep. The most important thing to her are words; reading and writing them. Most of her work can be found on her personal blog phideliaimiegha.com.