Sitting on a small couch tonight, I feel as if I am sitting on the corner of some cosmic world.  Alone.  Completely alone.  And this particular world is not round; rather it it square.  Square because there is no circular justice.  Not unless you count being tortured and murdered as some sort of redemptive revenge.

And then I feel injustice pressing squarely behind my tired eyes.  What has happened is not just.  Nor is it fair because they have moved on and I am still here suffering.

Everyone is dead... that keeps ringing in my head.  I know that is not the precise case but in my own twisted world, everyone is, in fact, dead.

So now I sit week after week, even moment after moment, left to deal with their abuse, their hatred, their woundings, and their deaths.  Then there are my scars, my memories, my terrors, and all the collateral damage that comes with being a member of this family.  Theirs and Mine: two separate and fancy walk-in closets full of skeletons and ghosts tucked away in every nook and custom built drawer specifically designed for keeping the best and most wrenching secrets.  What an inheritance.

I feel that I am on the hook for the lion's share of the damage.  This hurts deeply; deeper than I ever imagined.  This surprises me.  What a dysfunctional mess...this family that is mine.

Alone. Completely Alone.

i. you broke both my legs and i'm still trying to walk. you ripped concertos from the back of my throat and said,
"look how beautiful you are."

ii. you don't have a nice smile. you smile like it's hurting you, like it's tearing you apart from the inside and you choke out words like stakes digging into my back, saying,
"then again, you did seem heaven sent."

iii. you sing church hymns with your whole self, your body pulsating with the force of it. you look at me when you sing, narrow your eyes as you kiss me, singing amazing grace like it actually meant something to you.

iv. you're biblical. you kiss my fingers and hiss holy words into the spaces between them, recite verses when we go to sleep at night, whispering,
"i don't have much faith left for messiahs, but i'm pretty sure you could be one."

v. i hate you and i don't know why. actually, that's wrong. i hate you because you never really died, did you, you're still here, imprinted across every surface in my house did you know that having an eidetic memory means i will never be able to forget you?

vi. you shattered my jaw and took the remains with you, painting a mural in different shades of red, saying,
"sweetheart, this is how you look best."

vii. you told me once that vampires are just vengeful angels and i don't know if i still believe that. i don't know if i ever believed that. i don't know what you believe when you tell me,
"look at the mess you've made."

viii. i wonder how long i've been faithless, or faithful. whatever you want to call it, sweetheart, when you say,
"you could have been all this, love, and more."

you take my breath away.
and not in a cheesy, cliche type of way.
no, i just forget to breathe.
i inhale and just      hold it.
forget to e x h a l e
it's painful and usually results in tears
i'm getting used to it

- c.s.

Meaningful hopeful daydreams
Mourning weeping widows
Forever dysfunctional  kids