Poem: Slipping Away

The thought arrives late—
as if it missed a train
only I could hear.

I reach for a word
and find its outline instead,
a shadow where meaning used to stand.

Something inside me
keeps loosening its grip—
names fall first,
then reasons,
then the quiet certainty
that I am where I am.

Rooms rearrange themselves
when I’m not looking.
Time folds oddly,
like a map read in the dark.

I laugh sometimes—
too quickly,
because I almost remember
why something was funny.

There is a soft unthreading
at the center of things.
Not pain, exactly—
more like being erased
very carefully.

People speak to me
as though I am still whole,
and I nod,
holding together what I can
with borrowed understanding.

But inside,
the walls are thinning.

And I am becoming
a doorway
no one meant to open.

Thank-you for reading,

Brenda Marie