10 Seconds

They're not even purple.
Just a pair of ordinary brown scissors
Sitting harmlessly in my lap.
They were cutting paper
10 seconds ago.
But it only takes a second,
And I look down to see
My hand coiled around the scissors.
But they're not purple.
Why am I even doing this?
Thinking this?
No conscious choice to pick them up,
But now...
Now I must decide
Do I
Follow through?
Do I
Back away?
Do I
Scream
Because I'm tired
Of making this decision?
Nervous habits.
I tap on the scissors
As if they could make the decision
For me,
But they remain silent.
I don't feel
Strong or empowered
To take back my life.
Not sure I want it.
The clock scatters my thoughts
With chimes.
6 AM
It will be dawn soon.
Infusion of colors.
Pinks
Oranges
Reds
Beckoning through my patio door.
Can beauty overcome loss?
Or does it get merely get absorbed
Into the deep chasm
That loss leaves?
Decisions take time,
And I'm running out.