I haven’t thought your name in a month, I forget when the time arrived that I stopped keeping track of how many times you crept across my mind
They say the day that moment arrives is when you’re done grieving
Done allowing the sadness to seep in
Done letting the dead mess with you
Done living life with a ghost
Ma’s seen multiple psychics as a way to still have you in her life
number 4, letter A, books, pride, my voice
Regret
wishes he could still be by our side, living the happy life he led with us before it was so rudely ripped away
As ma says this I turn my head and cover my ears
The dead can’t talk
The dead can’t think
The dead can’t wish
The dead can’t live
He says he can’t believe how much you’ve grown, your voice, your hair, your strength. He wishes he could’ve been there as you grew up
As ma says this I hold my breath and count to thirty
Thoughts of pale corpses
Thoughts of cold skin
Thoughts of heavy caskets
Thoughts of cold, January wind
Thoughts of silence
Ma looks over at me waiting for a response but I only briskly nod my head
The dead terrifies me, always has
Pa telling us to hold our breath and close the windows whenever we passed a graveyard
They’ll get you and never leave you
You’ve never left me
Hair tugging, moving things, whispering
The last thing we talked about was religion, you ate your favorite steak and sat down for a movie
I walked the dog around nine for an hour, the night wind brisk, swirling
wondering what I did to be blessed with such a loving life
Death terrifies me, it hasn’t always
Never knowing when it’ll visit
Never knowing who it’ll take
Never knowing
Left wondering
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
I haven’t thought your name in a month, I forget when the time arrived that I stopped keeping track of how many times you crept across my mind
They say the day that moment arrives is when you’re done grieving
Done allowing the sadness to seep in
Done letting the dead mess with you
Done living life with a ghost
Ma’s seen multiple psychics as a way to still have you in her life
number 4, letter A, books, pride, my voice
Regret
wishes he could still be by our side, living the happy life he led with us before it was so rudely ripped away
As ma says this I turn my head and cover my ears
The dead can’t talk
The dead can’t think
The dead can’t wish
The dead can’t live
He says he can’t believe how much you’ve grown, your voice, your hair, your strength. He wishes he could’ve been there as you grew up
As ma says this I hold my breath and count to thirty
Thoughts of pale corpses
Thoughts of cold skin
Thoughts of heavy caskets
Thoughts of cold, January wind
Thoughts of silence
Ma looks over at me waiting for a response but I only briskly nod my head
The dead terrifies me, always has
Pa telling us to hold our breath and close the windows whenever we passed a graveyard
They’ll get you and never leave you
You’ve never left me
Hair tugging, moving things, whispering
The last thing we talked about was religion, you ate your favorite steak and sat down for a movie
I walked the dog around nine for an hour, the night wind brisk, swirling
wondering what I did to be blessed with such a loving life
Death terrifies me, it hasn’t always
Never knowing when it’ll visit
Never knowing who it’ll take
Never knowing
Left wondering
