Vertigo

The world tilted again, another dizzy spell. 

My thoughts, once sharp as winter glass, now muffled under the tolling of distant mission bells. 

I heard my name echo through the ringing in my ears, though there was no voice, no mouth speaking. Only the sound of absence dressed as recognition.

No one was there. Just silence dressed in robes of guilt. You’d tell me not to blame myself, but you were never the one who needed forgiving. I was. Still am. Maybe always will be.

The light crept over the horizon, soft, golden, and blameless. I wanted to lie in it, let it wash over my wreckage. If you could find me, pull me close, just skin and bones now, you might be able to reach the soul underneath. Cleanse it, maybe. Or hold it gently as I spiral. Because I’m falling… deeper into that strange gravity we call vertigo.

I keep asking the dark if I’m still alive. Was this the moment? Had I finally gambled too much, pushed too far, walked past the last invisible line? If there’s a god, somewhere, anywhere, I hope he’s still listening. That it’s not too late to murmur an apology into the night. Not for you. For me.

The water is warm, too warm for this kind of ending. Yet my breath still shows in the air like ghosts unwilling to leave. I think I’m ready. Ready for whatever comes after the sun sinks behind that final edge.

If you’re near, if you still remember how to find me, pull me close. These bones are brittle, this skin unfamiliar. But the soul might still be waiting, curled up and quiet, hoping for one last redemption. One last connection before the fall is final.

The spell hits again. The bells ring louder. I run, not toward safety, but toward the memory of it. One last kiss. One last goodnight.