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cecilia-rosePoems
You laid in a ditch. Blood splattered on your body. It collected in a puddle beneath you, soaked into the dirt, turning the ground crimson red. No one could see this scene. A truck was  pressed upon your body, crushing every bone, pressing organs through your skin. You died instantly. I, on the other hand, did not have that luxury when I died. The shock stole my breath. My body shook. Deep raspy breaths attempted to slide past the barriers in my throat. My legs collapsed beneath me. The wretched tentacles of the ceramic tile floor entangled me in their grasp. I was stuck. All I could do was sense: the smell of burning dinner for three, the taste of bile on my tongue, the cold tile against my cheek, the kick of the child within me, the overwhelming feelings of dread and loneliness that seeped through my skin and penetrated my internal organs until I, too, died. Yes, I remember all too clearly the day we died. We died together. I, on the kitchen floor. You, on the right side of the road. The world flew past me. I stood next to a wooden box, sealed shut, no one could see the chunks of you that still existed. The collectors missed a piece. It was in my heart. No one saw that piece though, because my heart was as tightly sealed as the other box that held you. That day, hundreds of hands touched me. They patted my back, embraced my body, gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I don't recall whom the hands belonged to, but they all held an emotion, compassion. I seemed to have forgotten that feeling. In fact, I forgot every word spoken, the weather, the people that came, even what I wore that day. The only memory left from that day is embedded into a pillow. It holds the secrets of that night and many nights that followed. That night I rolled over to feel your warmth, your heart beat, your soft skin. All I found was cold, starchy sheets, and a puddle of salt water on my pillow that accumulated through the night.   It was a nightmare stuck on replay. The only problem is, I never woke up. We were supposed to have a baby together. You always wanted a girl. You wanted to love her. You were going to be a good father, the best. That is why I love you. All you knew of her was the gentle kick. All she knew of you was your voice. You never saw those eyes: identical to yours, deep brown, penetrates the soul, causes the heart to weep in love. You never felt her fingers wrap against yours. Her soft innocent  skin would be a breathtaking contrast to your wised calloused skin. The beauty would only be seen in the early morning hours. You would hold her against your bare chest as she cried. Slowly, You would erase her fears and she would fall asleep in your caressing love. I would lean against the door frame, holding a cup of coffee for you. I would marvel at how the newborn light would dance across their skin. Your face would look toward me. Our eyes would meet. You would give me that look that I could describe for years. The look that some people call love, but too me, it was always so much more than that. Yes, much more than that. It is in your eyes, the love, but those eyes faded... I find myself looking into a new pair of eyes, yet, they are the same. I'm oblivious to the sterilized white walls, the smell of chemicals, and the coughs and beeps that echo through the hallway. All I see is those beautiful eyes. She will be so much like you. You'll never met face to face, but your souls are old chums. I came to a realization at that moment. I am alive. She is alive. You are alive. I live in you, you lives in her, and she lives in us. She was no longer a baby, she. She was Calanthe Thuraia, beautiful flower, star of my life. That night I went to bed. No tears stained that pillow, because I had you by my side and she lay in the crib beside us. You were a great father, the best. You taught our daughter so much. You are the reason she is a beautiful young woman today.   You held her in your arms as a child. You wiped away her tears when the boys were means. You never let her give up her dreams You walked her down the aisle to a man that you knew was good for her. She never knew you but you did it all for her. You just did it through me. You held my hand You kissed my cheek and there was never a night without you by my side. You gave me strength when I only wanted to cry, and you always told me, “You are a great mother, the best. That is why I love you.”
0
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 8:08 PM UTC
Her Beautiful Sorrow
You laid in a ditch. Blood splattered on your body. It collected in a puddle beneath you, soaked into the dirt, turning the ground crimson red. No one could see this scene. A truck was  pressed upon your body, crushing every bone, pressing organs through your skin. You died instantly. I, on the other hand, did not have that luxury when I died. The shock stole my breath. My body shook. Deep raspy breaths attempted to slide past the barriers in my throat. My legs collapsed beneath me. The wretched tentacles of the ceramic tile floor entangled me in their grasp. I was stuck. All I could do was sense: the smell of burning dinner for three, the taste of bile on my tongue, the cold tile against my cheek, the kick of the child within me, the overwhelming feelings of dread and loneliness that seeped through my skin and penetrated my internal organs until I, too, died. Yes, I remember all too clearly the day we died. We died together. I, on the kitchen floor. You, on the right side of the road. The world flew past me. I stood next to a wooden box, sealed shut, no one could see the chunks of you that still existed. The collectors missed a piece. It was in my heart. No one saw that piece though, because my heart was as tightly sealed as the other box that held you. That day, hundreds of hands touched me. They patted my back, embraced my body, gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I don't recall whom the hands belonged to, but they all held an emotion, compassion. I seemed to have forgotten that feeling. In fact, I forgot every word spoken, the weather, the people that came, even what I wore that day. The only memory left from that day is embedded into a pillow. It holds the secrets of that night and many nights that followed. That night I rolled over to feel your warmth, your heart beat, your soft skin. All I found was cold, starchy sheets, and a puddle of salt water on my pillow that accumulated through the night.   It was a nightmare stuck on replay. The only problem is, I never woke up. We were supposed to have a baby together. You always wanted a girl. You wanted to love her. You were going to be a good father, the best. That is why I love you. All you knew of her was the gentle kick. All she knew of you was your voice. You never saw those eyes: identical to yours, deep brown, penetrates the soul, causes the heart to weep in love. You never felt her fingers wrap against yours. Her soft innocent  skin would be a breathtaking contrast to your wised calloused skin. The beauty would only be seen in the early morning hours. You would hold her against your bare chest as she cried. Slowly, You would erase her fears and she would fall asleep in your caressing love. I would lean against the door frame, holding a cup of coffee for you. I would marvel at how the newborn light would dance across their skin. Your face would look toward me. Our eyes would meet. You would give me that look that I could describe for years. The look that some people call love, but too me, it was always so much more than that. Yes, much more than that. It is in your eyes, the love, but those eyes faded... I find myself looking into a new pair of eyes, yet, they are the same. I'm oblivious to the sterilized white walls, the smell of chemicals, and the coughs and beeps that echo through the hallway. All I see is those beautiful eyes. She will be so much like you. You'll never met face to face, but your souls are old chums. I came to a realization at that moment. I am alive. She is alive. You are alive. I live in you, you lives in her, and she lives in us. She was no longer a baby, she. She was Calanthe Thuraia, beautiful flower, star of my life. That night I went to bed. No tears stained that pillow, because I had you by my side and she lay in the crib beside us. You were a great father, the best. You taught our daughter so much. You are the reason she is a beautiful young woman today.   You held her in your arms as a child. You wiped away her tears when the boys were means. You never let her give up her dreams You walked her down the aisle to a man that you knew was good for her. She never knew you but you did it all for her. You just did it through me. You held my hand You kissed my cheek and there was never a night without you by my side. You gave me strength when I only wanted to cry, and you always told me, “You are a great mother, the best. That is why I love you.”
Written by
cecilia-rose
American
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 8:08 PM UTC
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