An echoing silence.
The infamous din is haunting.
Not the loss, but that one
-incessant-
beep.

Not one split-second can go by without the ringing.
Yearning for one last flicker of-
It’s impossible to watch.
Her eyes closed
As it seemed to the ones left behind
But as her eyes closed, a whole world opened
a world maybe an imitation or maybe just forgotten

Eyes bend reality to make reality what is needed
as that beep
-incessant-
is heard,
the reality is no longer bent
it is reflected
in to the eyes all at once
a moment of realisation.
Beep.

Open eyes and fleeting smiles
Maybe there’s just a little-

Violet Morgan

A poem from the daughter of a trusted friend.