they die every day
only to be reborn in the morning,
rising like a phoenix
from the ashes of their deaths.
a fresh start,
a clean slate,
a new beginning
in a new body
with a new heart.
no matter how many
tears are shed,
no matter how many
lines they cut into their skin,
tomorrow will always be
a new day.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
it's saturday night
and we're crowded in a small room
watching her like she's our favorite sad movie.
there are tears pricking our eyes,
there have been for hours,
but we’re not crying.
we’re laughing with each other,
throwing everyone else in the room Looks
to make sure they’re okay,
because that’s how our family is;
we make sure everyone else is okay
before we check on ourselves.
she’s lying in the uncomfortable-looking bed
and she is so small,
smaller than she’s ever been,
even smaller because of the crowded room.
i am sitting on her right
resting my chin on the safety bar
with my hand on hers,
which is too, too warm.
i am watching the way her eyes flicker,
helplessly,
and the way her breath is coming,
so fast,
and aunt shel’s hand on her forehead,
smoothing back her hair.
we are all whispering,
some out loud and others silently,
telling her that it is okay,
she can go,
she doesn’t need to stay.
eventually i am alone with her
and it breaks my ******* heart,
because i know this is the last time
i will hold her hand in mine
and kiss her forehead
and tell her,
in person,
that i love her so much.
i apologize for breaking my promise,
the one i made when i was 8,
and that breaks my heart too,
because maybe she would still be here
if i had kept it.
i know that that’s not true,
papa died and she all but gave up,
and it’s really amazing
that she made it this long
without him.
but still,
it breaks my heart.
when aunt laurie is leaving,
she gives all of us hugs and when
it gets to be my turn,
she whispers in my ear, through her tears,
“you were always my favorite.”
we leave around 8:30 that night,
and we stop at gram’s house
because i need our sally bear
and i need papa’s graduation picture.
it’s only an hour after we get home
that aunt shel is calling mom
to tell her that gram is gone.
i don’t cry.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 9:34 PM UTC
i wish i could be
what you want
or what you need.
i could be either,
but at this point
it would only seem
like i’m trying to win
you back, selfishly.
i wish i had told you
who i am.
maybe if i had told you
who i am
things would be different
now.
but it’s too late.
it’s too late for us,
too late for me
to tell you who i am.
so i’ll just scrub my skin
and wash my brain,
and try not rip at my flesh
because i don’t want
to cause you more pain.
i wish things were
different,
i wish things were
the same.
i want you to be happy,
i want to be happy too;
i wish i could be happy
with you.
i wish i could have
been myself
with you.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC