Sound the Bells

The moon hangs low in the sky,
my eyelashes thick with smoke and
my hands shaking,
I walk alone in the dark.
It has been a month of worry,
passing unremarkably in a haze of espresso and books.
My soul is weary and my skin longs to meet the sun.
I am in the final hours
of the week deciding my future
and I can no longer stand,
my lungs aching and my tears drying.
There is nobody holding my hand,
no words of concern and encouragement.
I walk alone in the dark.
A week from now,
I see only darkness.