Hallucination

Nicco Valenzuela

Drenched in the darkness of a well-lit room
with the stench of wakeful substance abuse
Jazz music playing as background irony
A harmonious scene ruined by the existence of me

Rust squeaks as motion near the hinges
The darkness slowly overcomed by blindness
"Is it her? Could it really be?"
The split-second scene enables me not to see

The blinding light, the outside breeze
I clear my throat as I seem to freeze
Choking with anticipation, dying with fear
Again I ask, “Is she really here?”

As pupils constrict, and the heart beats faster
The long brown hair and her eyes grow clear
A pleasant sight of relief and anger
"Nope. Not her. She ain’t gonna be here"