Buried Alive

By Isabel Thornton ‘21

I thought it was over forever —

the feeling that I would never be whole

again.

You came into my life

patient and gentle

like the kiss of a spring breeze

after the coldest winter I had ever known.

You pulled me out of the grave

I dug for myself

when I thought love would never be more

than a lifetime of his abuse.

You took my hand

and showed me how to walk again.

You did it so effortlessly,

but my steps were too small

and my pace was too slow.

As soon as I found my stride

you wanted to run

and I couldn’t keep up.

I was weighed down by

a year of pleasure

and passion

and the promises you broke.

Did you forget about the promises?

Or were you too afraid to admit

that they were empty?

You pulled me out of my grave

and dug a new one

with your bare hands.

It took 13 long months to dig

as deep as you could go —

deep enough to guarantee

I would never make it out again.

Now our love has collapsed

and the dust is

burying me alive.

I reach out my hand

and scream for you to save me.

You’re miles away

but your presence

still lingers in the air

disguised as hope —

it’s the only thing that keeps me

from suffocating.