Untitled XII

There upon that hill

In that stormy storm

She sits all by herself.

She feels each raindrop

As it passes over her naked flesh

And each flash brings her dreams

That much closer.

There up in the sky come the

Rolling cumulonimbus cloud

Bringing darkness closer

In her fragile heart and soul;

As she dreams of ending it all.

There, on the next hill,

A tree stands alone, for a moment,

Before coming crashing down

With the crackle of wet wood

And the heat of strong fire.

Her sobs grow stronger.

How many flashes until her tree,

The one she has curled herself under,

Falls to the ground?

Maybe, just maybe, she could…

Disappear from herself

And the world around.