I can't speak her name,
Because if I try, my whole life collapses,
I can't think of her,
Because if I do, my mind rushes to think of "that day,"
I can't hear her voice,
Because if I try, I hear a mixture of different voices.
I can't smell her,
Because if I do, I only smell death-
-like the last sniff I took when I stood beside her bed.
I can only remember,
When I was a kid.
When I would lay next to her in bed and she would drag me out with her cold hands telling me I'm going to be late for school.
When I was 5 and went to work with her,
When I tripped over a wire and landed on a nail.
When she desperately helped me up, crying because I was in pain.
When the last memory I have is her kissing me goodnight,
When she told me, she loved me the night before she died.
When she took her last breath.
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
I can't speak her name,
Because if I try, my whole life collapses,
I can't think of her,
Because if I do, my mind rushes to think of "that day,"
I can't hear her voice,
Because if I try, I hear a mixture of different voices.
I can't smell her,
Because if I do, I only smell death-
-like the last sniff I took when I stood beside her bed.
I can only remember,
When I was a kid.
When I would lay next to her in bed and she would drag me out with her cold hands telling me I'm going to be late for school.
When I was 5 and went to work with her,
When I tripped over a wire and landed on a nail.
When she desperately helped me up, crying because I was in pain.
When the last memory I have is her kissing me goodnight,
When she told me, she loved me the night before she died.
When she took her last breath.