"Get up."
A decade ago, and I have yet to unseen your face, unsmell your scent.
"Get up."
A decade ago, and the palms of my hands still sweat at random moments of the day, my muscles tensing, waiting for you to call my name.
A decade ago and you still find ways to get me, not a dream you have ever let me be.
A decade ago and the imagery of it all going down still haunts me, though I’m sure you have forgotten by now.
A decade ago and I have not yet felt relief, not since a knock interrupted, and you told me to quickly get on my feet.
A decade ago I couldn’t move from my seat.
I still haven’t got up.
"Get up."