Bleeding Senses

Jess Boaden

The moments of clarity in colours

Bright greens of spring leaves

Dark brown dirt after a rainy day

Pale blue stretched above the world to see

The moments of soft-spoken wind

Birds chattering, dogs lapping at the air

Children giggling, squealing under sun

Small feet stomping over wooden planks

Only to fade and blur in seconds

Crashing down around the scene

Bliss turned to terror

Shots ringing out

Head falling back against the ground

Arms heavy, strayed aside

Blood draining through the unfamiliar hole

Tasting the metallic on the tongue

Pulsing in beat, growing slower

Fewer and farther between

Smells floating in a haze

Smoke and gun powder

Erased in the sudden stinging wind

Fading with each second

Feeling the soft rain-slick dirt

Soaking already tender flesh

Numbness spreading

Hearing tingling, trying to focus

Suffocated silence until faint sirens

Stirring in the distance

Cries of pain echoing, too far, too late

Green fading to grey

Blue bleeding into darkness

Pushing against the corners

Closing in around

Moments are all that are needed to know

To know that they are final

Final in sound, final in sight

Final in forever