ali 5d

i want a drought.
i want the rain to stop hitting the roof like incessant knocks of a jehovah's witness
("have you been saved?")
you are unwelcome here.
i want a drought
because i don't think that my veins, running like rivers, my heart, swelling like a cloud about to burst with rain,
can handle one more phone call in the middle of the night,
one more stifled sob in the shower of an empty house.

on the day of my uncle's funeral,
(they called it a 'celebration of life'
but i've never seen a celebration
where there were so many people crying)
i thought that he would show a sign that he was here.
but it rained all day
and the only thing that i could hear over the noise
was his children crying.

a month ago, tucked into a booth at an italian restaurant,
my mom got the call that they were taking her off the ventilator the next morning.
i had never experienced the feeling of the world continuing to spin
until my mom was crying, my dad was praying, and families all around us
ate their pasta and drank their iced tea and laughed
while our family was falling apart.
the next day, it rained and rained
and stephanie passed away, as simple as a plug pulled out from behind a hospital bed, and a hand going cold.
when my friend took me for a drive,
so i could get out of the empty house,
so i could stop feeling like my throat was constantly on the verge of closing,
so close to suffocating, but never there,
the rain hit the windshield
and on any other day, i would've found it calming,
but it was mocking me.

today, your body lays in your bed, your arms so stick-thin that i don't think i will ever forget the shape of your bones,
your hands are too cold for your mother to hold any longer,
and your heart finally gave in,
and it is raining.
in little intervals,
like just when i think i am out of tears,
they come again,
sure as the setting sun,
hidden behind gray clouds.

so please,
rain, rain, go away.
let me breathe.
let me grieve,
let my eyes dry,
and let me go.

i loved you so much
Susie Ivan Apr 18

Your laughter, Your youth.
How unique you were.
I'm never going to meet anybody like you again and I'm sure of it.
Everybody else is a dime a dozen, but you..
you were astounding. Anybody who dared looked your way struggled to maintain direct eye contact for more than a few seconds. You were the essence of wild and free and I wish I could see you grow older with all of your friends. I miss you. I love you. I am screaming into the void for you.

Please come back. That car crash destroyed you. But I wish you were here and your body was intact and that you were your unstable self.
Martin Narrod Apr 11

The postulate of this grief is ours. Every night in my wiry chain-mail suit, in my bed, where you have been crying for your lost hours. For a moment they came, in calamity and drudgery, to every travailing effect that pushed you down. Half of one day, you had it. You plucked your eyebrows, applied vigorously baby oil, lotion, to your pallid skin, and in two bats of your eyes, it had disappeared again. So sad you are. So sad you have been. They were only minor hours, wrapped in crimson bows, gentle happenings that you had barely grazed the tips of your fingernails into, and their symbolical sense, their nuance, wasn't perfected as you had wished just yet. And you tried so hard and it wasn't right yet. In the bed, with your fore-paws tucked neatly under the pillow, the bottom of your legs tucking their way up into your gut, tight as tight could be; I watched you sob in your maudlin ball, your sudorific tears, just peeling out of your eyes. I changed the pillow. I swapped it out. If only we could find your hours and give them back to you.But you cowered into a half-lump ball, your spirit curdling under your night-wept tears. And I too wanted your hours, for they were mine also. Our amatory hours, the fervid hours, our hours of luxe developing bliss. I felt the same urgency to recall them as you, but it was I who held to them, and clang to them that was losing my fingertip grasp on their minutes, and that is what frightened the both of us.

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The spot is empty where he sat close by my feet
And gazed at me with loving whippet eyes, but
Not as empty as the hollow in my heart.

His walking lead hangs by the door
Reminding me each time I pass
That I must learn to walk alone.

His favorite toy, abandoned now,
Brings tears where it once brought
Laughter at his antics as he played.

This well loved dog, my mate of many years
Was very like the decade of my youth
With me for a certain special time, then gone.

A candle in the darkness of my grieving
Lights the places where all the good times were
And becomes a beacon for my memories forever.

I wanted to make this longer and better but emotion got in the way. Sorry.
ali Mar 20

i am so sorry
about your loss.
i am so sorry
about your heartache.
i am so sorry
about everything.
this is not how a romantic story is supposed to conclude.
i am so sorry
that the doctors couldn't save you.
i am so sorry
that the bed is empty.
i am so sorry
because you were the glue.
i am so sorry
because you were far too optimistic
your heart was too full
your spirit was too high
for everything not to fall
apart around us
in the way that only a death this sudden can -
ripping everything in its path
to shreds -
rippling like a wave
my father crying in an italian restaurant,
kneeling at the edge of the bed and praying
pretending that i do not hear
the crack in my father's voice,
or the shaking grip my mother has on my hand.
if god exists,
i think he's a sadist.

rip stephanie
march 18 2017
Sarah Parker Feb 24

Almost is a word often used
with negative connotation
Synonymous with
not quite
When the thing you strive for
is just barely out of reach.

"He almost caught the train"
"She almost fell in love"

In this case, it's different.
What I would give
for an almost right now...
"It was almost too late"
"She almost didn't make it"
"We almost lost you"

Sarah Parker Feb 22

I've grown a new layer of skin
in just less than two months
I now have an exterior shell
protecting me from reminders
of the pain that lies underneath
protecting others from the discomfort
of witnessing a mental breakdown
Now it's harder to feel
and when a crack begins to spread
I'm quick to patch it up
because it's easier to swallow my words
than to speak them through tears.

The friendships will be the sunshine
Whether they are the ones just for fun
Or the ones that stick around when you need them most
All of these are forms of love, and they will nurture you

The hurt is the rain
It pours and pours and it seems like it’ll never end
And oh how it’s cold
But I promise it’s good for you
It won’t be until you’ve blossomed that you realize you needed it

Your family is your soil
Your mother who loves you with every breath she takes
Those connected to you through blood and soul
Loving you unconditionally, the only way they know how

And you my love, you were the seed
Through pain and love you have grown and will grow
You are the most stunning of flowers
And everything with eyes will stop to admire you
For if they don’t, they are simply fools

ALC Feb 10

I’m exhausted,
I am a wreck,
I have put on a show,
And I did not slip.

I showed you my home,
While you smiled with tears
And we both felt the grieving
From all those so near.
We realized our loss
Was not ours alone
And we gathered together
In this just right sized home.
We mingled,
And conversed.
We shared our stories
And our tales,
And we all agreed that while in this world, He prevailed.

I feel the loss so deep
That it could cut down to my soul.
But I feel the love all around me,
As you gather in my home.
-ALC February 10, 2017

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