the threads in her head

Lying limp, down in the corner of the dark brown sofa. Breathe one two three, out one two three, in one two three, out one two three. My whole body loose, snuggled into the sofa. I am breathing.

Eyes are open. Looking at the ceiling. And beyond. They look, but for a moment, are unseeing. The next second, it sees the white of the ceiling. And that's all. I am breathing.

Safe. There's something steady about lying there in the sofa. Your words, are deflected and bounced off harmlessly against an invisible shield. I am cool, collected. You can say anything. I am numb. The sofa is able to support my weight. I am breathing.

I could sleep here, in this very sofa. The next minute my last breath could come. My body stiff and cold. My soul to either heaven or hell. I pray it's heaven. Life here is weary. Rest would be welcoming.

Who does not yearn for peace? A soothing joy that flows in the bottom of your heart. A rest beyond our understanding.

Cast your worries onto Him.

Lull me to sleep.