Disquiet

If all that happened never had, would I still be outside? Would I have still chosen the path filled with thorns and twisted metal? Would I sit alone, waiting for it to be over still? Would I still imagine all the ways to sink into that final darkness? Would the visions of my own demise still bring me that great comfort? Would I still be beautiful, pale silence, deep red flowers spreading out and away on the floor?

If all that happened never had would the loss of potential still be so sharp? Who would I be without the rips and breaks? How would I be loved if I knew I mattered? Would my sadness still be my shield? Who would love me, who would see me beyond my nature? Would regrets still swallow me whole?

Could I have ever been a whole and complete person? Perhaps the darkness would scare me rather than soothe me, perhaps when I run a bath I would not think of my wrists floating gently, achingly beautiful pouring out pain? What would one think if they saw this? If they saw me?

Disquiet is catching.