Sitting. All I am able to do right now. A long way till the morning and even longer this time of the year. So I just sit and wait.

I have made a tradition of it. One that I hate but can't avoid. Not since we moved here.

Which was not so long ago, only 3 months ago I walked into this room just thinking about how lonesome it was. And about that mirror.

A lonely mirror. The only thing left by the previous owner, but I didn't give much of a thought right then.

Then. The first night. A long day previous to that, yet a happy one, untill the nightmares came in.

Nightmares. The same every night. Moving shadows I can't make out and a rectangular image of a body I pray is not mine, all surrounded by a golden frame.

The golden frame I see after the screaming has died, a screaming that never leaves my throat. Lost between a sea of blankets and sweat. The golden frame that I see while I sit on the bed and count the hours away, one by one as strange fingers cross my back without leaving scars.

Scars that only can be proven by the growing circles around my eyes and the now familiar taste of madness.

Madness that has turned to calmness, one that assures me that the nightmares are almost over and gives me clarity as I sit and wait.

Wait while the fingers give way to strong arms that pull harder every night. Wait while I give in to the golden frame that will soon be left as it was before, and will find someone sitting as i was before.

Publicado la semana 21. 21/05/2020
In English
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