Would this be considered poetry or prose?

Loneliness <3

New member
It's cold...
A peculiar wind is calmly blowing...
And my body seems perpetually quiescent.
The pale moonlight reflecting off the water,
gradually,
shines upon and gently warms my chilled, adolescent face,
then catches my choked eyes
that were secretly yearning
for that sanctified light.
As I open them,
I find myself lost
in an unknown world of twilight,
and I begin to panic,
for that homely light had vanished,
and the once peaceful night
was slowly being covered in an aura of darkness,
as an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia flooded me.
With only that peculiar wind to guide me:
the branches rustling,
the hushed sounds of the grass being brushed,
and a voice being carried that sounded like yours,
I must find my way out of this prison
before I become lost in even my own mind.

I'm gasping for air,
my eyes grow wide,
and I collapse.
I lay there quivering....
my body burning hot as magma...
and alone.
Shadowy images start to fill my once desolate mind,
turning this horrible situation
into outright chaos.

Just moments before losing my conscientiousness,
I hear your soothing, amiable voice,
and my once clouded mind is illuminated with brief images of you.
I can't seem to tell what you are saying,
and you seem...
angry?
It feels like you are shouting.
Yet,
I only hear whispering,
"W... wake.... up..."
is all I hear.
Then the chaos slowly recaptures my mind.

As the night continues,
my innocent, defenseless body now seems traumatized by the constant shaking,
and the atrementous images are now taunting my pain,
and when it was bad enough,
I screamed.
I look to the dusky sky
with my bulging, cryptic, green eyes
and see not a star nor cloud.
Was the world really being entrapped,
or was it her own existence?

Arduous hours later,
I finally manage to briefly find my own thoughts,
"What did he mean by 'wake up'?"
"Was this all a dream?
It couldn't be..."
but then I remembered the once beautifully lit, sympathetic sky I once loved,
had become torturous and barren with no apparent reason.
"Why can't I wake up?...
if it is a dream."
after I could no longer sustain my thoughts, I instantaneously fell
into a
much
needed slumber.

It starts to rain,
the sound of raindrops beating against varying objects,
each drop producing differentiating sounds,
sounds that became blissful music,
ever so lightly entered my ears
and awoke me.
I slowly opened my eyes,
though my eyelids were heavy and reluctant to open,
I managed.
It was still as dark as ever,
and the newly produced rain
felt like ice shards trying to penetrate my hot, hard, nearly metallic skin.
However,
it was somewhat rejuvenating...
it reminded me that I really did still exist,
despite the fact that the world around me
was disappearing.
I remained on the hard, rocky floor for a while...
my eyes somehow ended up shut again,
as I imagined,
and prayed,
that this purified rain would be the thing that just washed away the darkness,
the pain,
that it might be the thing cleansing my seemingly blackened soul,
and becoming the door that would let me leave this petrifying place.

After a while,
I became calm...
for the first time,
in what seemed like ages.
I inhaled the crisp, newly formed air,
as I could finally breathe normally again.
I managed to stand up,
after a painful process that involved using my frail, cramped muscles to do so.

As soon as I was fully upright,
the wind and the rain vanished...
the gentle, arctic touch of that rain,
the guidance, that I had become so accustomed to, of that wind,
and the soothing, amiable qualitites of your voice...
had all vanished.
All that was left for me to hear was a high pitch tone...
I then, abruptly, felt bursts of intense pain within my chest,
my breathing became slow and heavy,
I drifted in and out of conscientiousness,
I swayed back and forth,
until I found myself plummeting
towards what seemed like an unending abyss in the ground,
which I had just gracefully and peacefully laid upon.

Just inches before crashing into that demonic portal,
I wake up
gasping for air,
drenched in water,
with my eyes as wide as before,
in a blindingly light, white room.
My hands are clenched around my arms,
so tight that they were becoming red.
I look around...
And I see you...
standing there,
with another man standing beside you,
who was holding a defibrillator in each hand and a bucket half full of water beside him,
and you had this perplexed look on your sweet, worried face.
My vision was still slightly obscured,
but before I could blink,
you came running towards me shouting my name.
When you finally reached my all white bed,
you embraced my hot, lifeless body, and I thought I heard you whisper,
"I missed you..."
I found myself unexpectedly, almost involuntarily, crying soon after...
And I put my gentle, fair skinned arms aro
sorry so long xD
It was kind of both I guess, if you feel like reading and commenting on it, then go ahead lol. But my main reason for posting it this time wasn't for opinions.
 
lovely to read it..

i can say dat there is often poetry in prose/ some prose are very poetic
and
some poetry are very prosaic , i mean dey lack poetic beauty, imagination etc
 
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