Bathroom Light

There is a light coming out of my bathroom.
The generator of the light fizzes and pops.
But the gleam that reflects hits me in the dark.
I'm doing something I really shouldn't.
Something that takes away pain, and causes fear. 
I see years of colored hurt on the floor.
Something happens with each slice.
I hear a footstep intended for my ears.
A relation of mine stalks into my bubble.
Grabbing my pain reliever she dims the bathroom light.
Leaves me there to bleed out.
I fall on the floor into the middle of the light.
There is peace exuding from my face as I realize I'm alone, again.
Yes, that piece of metal is gone but a light from my bathroom burns through me.
My eyes flutter as I enjoy a vision of a person I love.
One whose light fills me even though she's not here.
I hear a brief tap on the bathroom window. 
The bathroom light blinds the knocker.
Prying myself off from the ground, I reach up to the latch.
An open window gushes in a flood of cold ice, but brings in an angel of comfort.
The arms that wrap around me are warm, and add to the bathroom light.
Brown wavy hair falls around me.
Hands that carry a ring with a rose, and another ring with diamonds around it hold me tightly.
Yet again, I hear a footstep intended for my ears.
That relation steps on my bubble.
That relation tears me away from my angel with the rings.
She slaps the scars all around, and punches out the pungent smell of blood.
As the angel of mercy reaches me, she carries me up, and away as I fly with her to heaven.
The bathroom light drains out.