Black Thrum

At first, I thought it was nothing, just my heart hammering in the way it does when it tries to reconcile
I ignored it, for the first few hours, the dull thump (ache) that made my chest rise and fall in cacophonous rhythm against the world. It wasn’t until much later that I finally relented in what it really was. My voice cracked, on the simplest of lines; “I’m in here.”, the three little words nearly flooding my eyes with pain that I could not allow to spill forth. A quick nod, a small cough to clear my throat and it happened. The counter, the echo, the tiny little murmur that did not belong. No, it was not the beat of my heart that woke me this morning in reconcile. It was the background pain, gentle (ravenous) waves of this ache that I cannot name. In my foolish wonder, I focused upon it, and let it consume me, from my very core to the very darkest recesses of my being. It is with chapped lips, and trembling hands that I’ve been screaming “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” at a cold screen, reflecting something that only I might see. It is with a heart that thrums against itself that I try to reach out, to find what I need, and never know if I will find. My wings blaze upon my back, the product of the destruction of myself, and I know they are mighty, blinding with their own special brand of pitch black light. Is this what I (wanted) needed? Why (me) now? Have I done (everything) something wrong? The tears have finally fallen, but there is a smile upon my cracked lips, wavering, fragile, yet warm. I pray my light might be seen, that my words might echo far enough, long enough that the world might hear, through this lifeless mirror that reflects my hollow gaze. I can only scream so loud, for someone to pick me up from the shadow that has washed over me, that I might pull them along with me.