Runaway | Jodie Satchavarodom

Photo by Mads Schmidt Rasmussen on Unsplash

i sat in a cold damp tiled room and suddenly death was looming i felt him i know i did but- he felt familiar. i felt him wavering in the aging flowers in my garden, i felt traces of him on a bird’s egg that i had found in my gutter, i felt his embrace on each of my chickens before they were sold at the markets, i felt him pull my love from me through our clasped hands through breathless confessions her sunken eyes and cheeks had never looked so radiant and yet, i can’t go, not yet.  who else would live on for her? who else would believe in her spirit? who else would love her? i sat in a cold dark room with death, and ran.