the red bargainA Poem by deadgirlconfessionsstory about near death experience during child birthThe room went cold in a way the heart remembers, A sudden winter in the height of the heat. The lights overhead became dying embers, As the rhythm of living skipped a heavy, dull beat. Nine pints of a life, a slow-running river, Spilled out on the floor like a secret confessed, Leaving a chill and a deep, bone-deep shiver, As the ghost of the silence leaned hard on my chest. I watched from the ceiling, or maybe the doorway, A ghost in the making, a blur in the light. The world was a map with a single, dark freeway, Leading away from the noise of the night. They say that the soul is a light, fragile tether, But mine was a cable, frayed thin at the end, Drifting like ink or a black, fallen feather, With no more apologies left to defend. I saw it in the eyes of the ones meant to save me" The masks couldn’t hide the sharp scent of the fear. They worked with the frantic, grim grace of the grave, Predicting a silence they thought I would hear. To them, I was numbers, a chart turning hollow, A flame losing oxygen, flickering low; They looked at the path they expected I’d follow, And waited for all of the monitors to go. Then came the sound"a violent, sweet waking, A cry that cut through the white, hollow hum. The sound of a spirit, demanding and taking, Announcing to heaven that Kaden had come. It was a hook in the heart, a sharp, sudden pulling, A reason to turn from the gold and the gray, The tides of the crimson finally stilling, As the shadows of leaving were driven away. I traded the blood for the breath of another, A high, heavy price for a miracle’s birth. The scars are the map of a survivor, a mother, Who bled out her soul to stay here on the earth. The neon may flicker, the ink may run shallow, But the life that was bought is a debt I still run" I walked through the valley, the dark, and the fallow, To wake in the light of the eyes of my son. © 2026 deadgirlconfessions |
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