Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2016
Standing in between two bodies. One is the same and the other I'm not too impressed with. What gives me this lump in my throat is knowing that I may never see either of these two again if I don't choose. I hold each individually. A warm tear rolls down my cheek onto the boy that lay in my arms dying. His red and black jacket that hid his worst fears. His torn jeans I couldn't ever find the time to sew for him. Never finding time to listen to his stupid insecurities.  His breath slowly reaching the point of no more, The feeling of holding back what I need to say to him burns almost as bad as the heart break he faced the day he was left alone.
I hold him close. If only I could have explained to him how stupid he was being. I sat there, I could hear the footsteps. I can feel Myself begin to walk away. And so he lay bloodied and bruised. Alive, but very much dead. I turn to Myself who is already halfway out the door? "Will he be alright?" I ask Myself. Taking a longing look at the boy on the floor.
I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I walked over, my eyes became solid,  no more blue and green with a sense of instability in my nature. Just a solid cold blue. I put my hand on my shoulder with a half ***'d grin. "No,but he's better off dead anyway." I look at the buzzing flies crawling on the boy, the supposed man holding him close. I know i'm only wasting words on a soon to be dead idiot.
I don't take anything with me, And maybe this explains my lack of baggage. But i'm just too tired of watching myself die with each passing chapter. I'm sick of the "soon to be" and the "potentiality important" person I always seem to be.
Courtlyn Quay
Written by
Courtlyn Quay  United States
(United States)   
382
   Bianca Reyes
Please log in to view and add comments on poems