"beeping" poems
I hear your name everywhere
Your whispers in the buzzing of the bees
Your exasperated sighs in the beeping of the cars
Your ecstatic storytelling in the humdrum of random noises
I see you in every hue
Your calm demeanor in shades of blue
Your road rage in shades of red
Your cheeky laugh in shades of yellow
I taste you in every way
Your kiss in this smooth black chocolate
The warmth of your hand in this bowl of soup
Your icy stare in gulping this cold water
I smell you in every scent
Your warm hug in this cup of coffee
Your compassion in this bouquet of Stargazers
Your glistening eyes in this cigarette
Doctors, please help me
I have the rarest case of synesthesia
When it comes to you,
My brain malfunctions
My senses, once numb, feel everything
All at once
In the most passionate and
In the most heightened sense
To feel you in everything.
To experience you in every way.
My eyes only see you
My nose only smells you
My tongue only craves you
My ears only hear you
My brain only perceives you
My synesthesia
Is only in the form of you.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:38 AM UTC
Heard a beeping sound
Followed by A very old Frank Sinatra’s song
My classmates’ heads turned
Who’s phone? who’s phone?
Less chaotic when the teacher glared
Everybody put their heads down
And checked their sophisticated mobile phones
Once again...
When the teacher wasn’t looking..
Mobile phones roamed in a dull classroom
Updating facebook status,
Uploading candid photos of a snoring friend
Copy pasting assignment
Text messaging and gossiping about their stern looking teacher
In the name of advanced technology
Mobile smartphones create the impossibles...
Beyond the blackboard and the four walls of the classroom
O o Frank Sinatra’s song again...
And everybody started looking...
The teacher grabbed her mobile phone
Tried to switch it off....
When students could own smartphones..
Who needs NOKIA from the old time zone....?
~ Sharina~
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
The girl in the yellow overalls
Is wishing for sunlight
(somelight, sumlight)
To outshine her
(outline her, outlier)
And that sky blue blouse
(blows, blowsy)
Drowsy in the noon-day
(gloom-day, soon-day)
She'll grow up gleaming
(beaming, screaming)
****** ****** of crows
(rows, rows)
Rouse the sleeping
(keeping, beeping)
Alarm clock sun.
(gun. run.)
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
If I knew, maybe I’d say something,
Why I miss my cats more than my parents
Why I miss the teal walls of my room and the full sized bed
more than I miss my family.
Why I miss the green trees and ravine behind my house,
all I hear is a withering beeping outside my five story window.
This room is so small
and I have to bear it with another
and although she and I get along,
Alone is weighted with wondering when she’ll be back.
Home is more an empty house than a room full of family.
Home is less talk and more birdsong in the background.
Home is…
Not these tight corners and partying bellowing music down in room 809,
not the concrete walls painted white, or the lofted beds I can’t sit up straight.
Getting away from my family was easy,
and my friends hard.
Leaving was easy.
And wishing hard.
I feel, less independent,
there’s only so many places to walk.
No car to escape, nor a room either.
The closest I get is headphones and online friends.
And yet they are so far away.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 10:04 PM UTC
I like the way
you say care
and laugh at my jokes
and stroke my hair
You touch my body
call me your amor
and tell me I'm pretty
when I answer the door
But then.
Your phone starts beeping
I'm no longer yours
Your hands wrapped around it
Yours eyes on the floor
Transfixed by its beauty
It's body you touch
You laugh and you answer
You smile far too much
It sits on the table
Between you and me
A small metal barrier,
which past you can't see
When it goes off again
and you reach for that phone
You let go of my hand
Absorbed on your own
I get up, I leave
I'm not second best
To texting and cheating, and lying and tweeting
You inconsiderate idiot, your life's a mess
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
I breathe in this silence that is not
Silenced,
Air alive with heartbeats and
Clocks ticking too slow,
Eyes meeting over
Sticky plastic tables,
Snapping away like an awkward blind date,
Fingertips drumming impatiently.
Wait.
Calm.
Be patient.
Tick...tock........tick...............tock
I can't, I won't, my son laying
One floor, 3 hallways, 12 rooms away,
But we are relegated to the hospital cafeteria as if my husband and I are naughty schoolchildren,
Interfering.
My red shirt crumples beneath
Nervous fingers,
The same shade as the blood given
To my son, not knowing it contained
Death.
Why can't I fight with my son,
My son,
Shining brightly and boldly as the sun,
Infected with a blood-borne killer we were never warned about.
Hemophilia is a tough diagnosis,
But my careful worrying wasn't enough to save him from a
Diagnosis of ostracism and certain death.
AIDS.
Oh God.
Breathe.
Can't breathe.
Time moves too fast, my son racing towards eternity
Alone.
White sheets and sterile beds rob
My son of all his sunshine,
Lips blue and pale like my husband's jacket,
Nothing but incessant beeping and bustling nurses who can't fix him,
Clock going tick, tock, tick, tock.
I see red.
Red dripping into and out of his arms through silver needles,
How do I know that this is safe,
No one knows if this is safe,
This is our only hope.
Tick..tock.....tick........tock.
White coat of the doctor moving too quickly towards us,
We run.
My heart thumping red and my stomach yellow bile and my eyes leaking blue.
Hospital room not room enough for all my emotions,
All of my tears,
All of my grief,
All his last breaths.
My son.
No longer my sunshine,
Just a pale winter afternoon,
No sun beneath cold sheets of snow.
My son.
Time moves too slow when everyone wears black,
Like molasses dripping from a jar into
Metallic air and earthy graves.
Like ash clouding out the sun.
My son.
No more my sun.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Bustling activity,
Frenzied brief energy,
Noisy beepers beeping,
Doctors, nurses, calling,
How are you?
How did your weekend go?
Echoes of friends and beaus.
Friendly voices chatter,
plans for weekend matters.
How are you?
Calm Code Reds cut the air,
urgent, requesting care.
Elevators dinging,
Loved ones heard exclaiming,
How are you?
Not given privacy,
Stripped of their dignity.
Phantom guests, masks they wear,
nurses ask, no one cares,
How are you?
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
meanwhile,
the Big Fat Yellow Bootay
was getting right tired of
waiting for the election to end.
so,
she set off down the highway
going ninety five...
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY!" she cried
as she gunned the engine and
threw herself in gear.
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY! MOTHER *******
twice she cried,
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY! MOTHER *******
this second time
for extra good luck
with the unfolding election.
cool Fall breeze caressed
her yellow metal,
her big fat yellow bootay,
a glorious day to
be out on a drive!
well, except where she had
come from.
beep beep
beep beep
always driving her
beep beep beeping insane!
it shore nuf was quiet
out this way!
she turned the shiny
silver dial to turn on the
radio.
'gonna have to get me
some better speakers
one day soon.' she thought
to her big fat bus self.
and what came out blasting?
"That's Alright Mama,"
by who else?
but the King!
Elvis!
Elvis has left the building
and now,
Elvis is ON THE BUS!
she didn't quite know all
of the words,
but what the ****
she sure could sing!
As the big fat bus
with the big fat bootay
was driving along,
singing joyfully,
she glanced in the rear
view mirrow and what
did she see?
why the ghost of Elvis himself
was sitting right there
right in the back of the bus.
He starts strumming on his
own guitar and singing,
'that's alright mama.."
so she turned off the
radio to listen
to the ghost of
the King,
Elvis,
himself,
singing in the back
of her big fat yellow bootay!
she also watched him eating
a lot of food
in the back of the bus,
her bus.
his ghostly figure
seemed to
fluctuate between fat Elvis,
and skinny Elvis,
like a seesaw.
by and by
says he,
(not the really fat one
but not the really skinny one
neither.)
'I need a pit stop.'
says the King
so the big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
asks,
asks she,
'you wanna stop at the next
stop & go,
or
the next
fizz & wizz,
or
my fav if you really
need a constitutional,
the stop & plop?'
at this particular junction in time
this ghostly King,
was in the shape
of Fat Elvis
but very cooly outfitted,
bellbottoms and rhine stones
or were those all diamonds?
note to self,
the big fat bus
squirreled away,
check on that.
are those real or not?
more mulha is always
good
and this just might
be mana from heaven
in the form of Elvis the KING
himself
and maybe just one
of those diamonds
will fall out and
get lost in me.'
mighty strange happenings
going on around here in this
big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay.
' the stop and plop little mama,' elvis replied
with that
ohhhh,
soooooo,
divine Elvis drawl
and that darling little
thing he did with his mouth,
but was doing now
as he was sitting there in the
back of HER big fat bus
with HER big fat yellow bootay!
OH MY,
it really is a
HOKEY POKEY day! she sighed.....
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
the bane of my existence
here
now
is
all of the incessant
noise.
the city encroaches
ever outward,
gobbling up
the suburbs
like the great big
Blob
contributing
layer
after
layer
of noise.
a new metro line
opened last year
disheartened
the morning
realized
it was the trains
i heard
as my puppy
and i
walked so early.
trash trucks,
back up beeping noises,
leaf blowers,
mowers
and trimmers ...
all
conspiring
to drive me
mad.
the birds and owls,
snakes and deer,
hawks and rabbits
toads
and trees
and flowers,
puppies
all other creatures
divine,
tempering
this man-made chaos
this man-made
hell
keeping me hopeful
that
i
will
have some
respite
some respite
from this
hideous cacophony,
this man-made hell,
in the future,
not
too distant.
of course
there are
some benefits
from all
the city life
but i prefer
the silence
the solitude
of nature.
the Taoist recluses
who speak to me,
whose poems
paintings
writings
and silence
are balm
to my soul.
some day soon,
i too
shall join
the recluses
far away
far far away
in the mountains.
but for now,
i am
only a modern day
taoist
recluse
stuck in suburbia,
doing my best,
living in this
noisy hell.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
there is a buzzing
it's coming from the walls
the tiny electrical snaps and synapses
the mindhive that seethes
the radios and beeping pulses
we have reached the
singularity.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
The alarm woke me up
Constant beeping by my head
It just wont shut up
But I think I'll stay in bed
There's a snooze button for a reason
and that reason today is me
I'll try to be gentle nextime Mr Snooze
And not hit you so forcefully.
My bed is my kingdom the scorching sun seiges
My curtains' my fortification's already breached
I admit my defeat and go see whats in the fridge
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
A bird in an aurulent billed mud-face,Living as a four foot two inch dragon in a San Franciscan cave,
Lifts off from a hot breathed murmur of Gideon.
Even in night the whole grandeur of movement
Soaking in red beeping heart-pangs
Fasten to the thrusts of his arms.
This post of vainglory was the opening of the year.
In July's open pores,
On a spatial plateau of Dodonian oak.
The Penguin
Unveils his weakened voice.
Flattening into a wide arrow
Draped from Carina he
Sails Westward. Barefooted through the Anavros
Molting under deep helplessness and melancholia.
With his inlaid eyes faced askance
The penguin broods
Among the day's songs
Cast into the poetry of the lyre,
Stretched upwards from Paradise Bay to Colchis,
Where his ebony wings
Soak into the palms of Peleus
Suffering only where the arrows have flung.
Downside up, with children in a pocket of blood,
Among supergigantic siren songs and muse poems
Sewing teeth into a spot of Earth
Races towards a column of toppling strakes.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:48 AM UTC
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.
Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.
Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.
Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.
Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
"Count to ten"
one, two, three, four
Someone closes a door
I'm surrounded by masked men
A gleaming silver knife
I hear my angel weeping
A mechanical cruel beeping
A sick, metallic life
Everything is so white
Am I dying?
&, if not, why is she crying?
She swallows, "Don't follow the light"
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:43 AM UTC
White walls and blue gown
Comfort sacrificed for pain
They call it healing
Last name and birthday
A dozen times every day
Here's your medicine
Monitor beeping
Clock singing its tick-tock song
Hospital music
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
1. Janet Jackson - Let's Wait A While
2. Ralph Tresvant - Love At First Sight
3. En Vogue - Waitin' On You
4. Meshell Ndegeocello - Let Me Have You
5. Jade - Give Me What I'm Missing
6. Janet Jackson - Anytime Anyplace
7. El DeBarge - Love Me Tonight
8. Michael Sterling - Lovers & Friends
9. El DeBarge - You Are My Dream
10. Floetry - Imagination
11. Tevin Campbell - Shhh
12. Keith Martin - Never Find Someone Like You
13. Meshell Ndegeocello - Soul Searchin
14. TLC - Red Light Special
15. En Vogue - Everyday
Erotica epitome, your lips so soft, I am standing on my toes
Beautiful and ****** sensual sensational music playing in the background
and with a kiss we were
high and turned on, submerged in ******** tones
Beeping and aroused *****
But then the songs ended.
May the memory melismatic in every sense that permeates colour and oozes flavour... Live on, long after the songs have ended.
Erotica Epitome
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
i always seem to be sitting
in the middle of intersections
like a traffic light that hasn't
hung itself yet, always
seem to be waiting in the
middle of the ghost town
of where our love was first
built. there's a hospital
down the road where the
waiting room chairs are
much more morbid than
the hospital beds and
every electric heart rate
line sitting on the screen
of the heart monitors flatten,
make long beeping sounds
like an alarm clock, like a
wake up call; they make
long beeps like the ringing
i hear inside of the phone
when i call the owner of
the voice mail i've seem to
have made a home out of.
they took every place
we kissed and turned it into
a church that closes on
Sundays and holds a choir
full of people that lost their
voice in their own war. i've
been in the line for the
confessional for about two
years now because every
time i go up to say how
badly i want you to feel it
back, i let the girl wearing
your t-shirt cut in front of
me. the sidewalks only
seem to crack when they
remember how it felt
when you walked on them,
when you gave the ground
its purpose. one of these
nights the traffic lights will
come to their senses,
drop into the intersection
and crumble right next to me
because it's not like they have
anything to stop or at least
slow down because this is
a ghost town, & nothing is coming back.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
I picked my emotions
out of the night sky,
and dredged up my guilt
from the wine dark sea:
packed them into a suitcase
with socks,
and that old wool sweater.
I stepped off the plane
into the Miami swelter,
but for the first time
in to
a Miami
without you.
I watched the life fade out of you
like a tide slowly receding -
- inexorable, cold, without mercy.
I could sense you from afar
as your body fought a civil war
down in the depths
where it was too dark
too dark to see.
I am not sure if I want to say the bowels of hell
or just...
your bowels -
- I am not sure if there's a difference.
You waited there.
In a room filled with neon lighting
charts, beeping lights, and cords:
with nurses and strangers passing by
until life stole even you
from yourself.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 2:00 AM UTC
Snow plows beeping
Reverse whine and scrape
Swirling blizzard of waking—Strange
in this place where
boredom banks both snow and cold
Are my eyes running?
After all
there's a stiff wind, and it’s 18 below....
Pictures and phone calls make up my family
Stray cats eat suet I leave for the birds
who make names for themselves in sunlit bushes
Love these more than...
my hearse of a job
where that ice cream vat—slipped
smashed
my sodden dish-doin’
fingers against sink
Pain mounts its insurrection!
Ambushed!
from every direction
Fainting in steam
Squeezing my eyes
till the blood shuts my brain-failing
Down my wrist
all over
the front of this rubber apron....
Someone hates me somewhere
Someone found me more tenacious
than a road-kill skunk!
I eat I drink I work I sleep
between these vicious icicles
-18F = -28 C
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
In a busy town
In massachusetts
there is this college
BCC
At this cozy college
there are 8 buildings
But one has capture my heart completly
G BUILDING
Walk through the sliding glass doors
Around the corner
through the lunch room
To the Dinning hall
Noise assult my ears
Beeping video games
shouts of triumph
Kpop and metal music
Tables littered with playing cards
Yugioh
Pokemon
Magic
People as different as can be
From all corners of the social spectrum
Popular
and geeks
Join together in a crazy dance
A swirling brightly colored tango
Joined together
by mutal intrest
Riker, dear Riker
puple fadora ever present
My "Co-Pimp"
a founding father of the trolling company
Damien, Oh damien
Your strangness growing stranger
Your hair of deception
Another founding father
Jose, Dear Lord Jose
You're pervertenss proceeds you
Cat calling
Video gaming
Holly, sweet Holly
Looking innocent and sweet
Masking your wildness
underneath
Nathan, My Naten
My best friend through the ages
Opinions flying
Jungle juice by your side
Casey, My sweet sweet Casey
Ghost story devourer
Trusting you with my secrets
Everyone's little sister
John, John of the lake
Annoying as hell
but loveble all the same
only kind things to say
Josh, Or should I say Shoji
Big Brother
Laptop out
Video game in
Matt, My lovely Matt
This is where we met
Fate intervined
brought us together
This is where I belong
This island of misfits
This G building gang
This is my home.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
Journaling is hard...
Have you ever tried it?
You write each day, about random ****
Only to find nobody gives a crap.
You fall asleep early and into the trap-
Of procrastination.
This dutiful task is one big opperation,
With the heart monitor beeping,
Time keeps on ticking.
The days smear together,
On the ugly speckled canvas,
Of the 50¢ notebooks,
You store next to your bed...
***** journaling,
I think I'd rather be a poet.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
I wonder where I'll be when you come for me
Will you steal me away in the dead of the night
Or will you send me a message before you arrive
Will there ever be a right time
Or would I embrace you like I've been waiting for this moment my whole life
Will I get a chance to say goodbye
Would it be rushed with loud cries
Or would I leave with a life fulfilled
In the arms of my love
And a smile on my face
I wonder if it would be painful
Sudden in the breeze on the concrete outside
The distant sound of sirens lulling me away
Or patiently savouring me slowly from the inside
One ***** at a time
A pinch of clips on my fingers, my heart beeping me out
Would it be panicked and rushed
Would I try to escape and run
Desperate to evade your advances
Then hopelessly succumb
Would I remember God
Would I call for him in that moment
Would I ask Him to save me
Or let you take me
So He can keep me safely in his gardens
I'd like to think I won't be afraid
I've always known it would happen
Yet I can feel fear choking me at just the thought
But if that's of the process or the destination
I guess I'll have to wait
Until it's my time to go
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
beep beep go the cars
beep beep go the SUVs
beep beep go the trash trucks
beep beep go the busses
beepeeeee beepeeeee go the fire engines
beepeeeee beepeeeee go the ambulances
beep beep go the shovelers
beep beep go the snow trucks
beep beep go the Fed Ex guys & UPS ers
beep beep go the watches
beep beep go the alarms
beep beep go the microwave ovens
beep beep go the washers & dyers
beep beep go the beepers
that are driving me beep beeping insane
beep beep
beep beep goes the Road Runner
but that one does not
drive me beep beeping insane!
beep! beep!
beep! beep!
beep! beep!
beep! beep!
Okay, now, really,
you have driven me beep beeping insane.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me. Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
In moments of raging to the hospital, the jolts from the road, the squeal of the tires, and the tripping of your feet only multiply your anxiety. Delicacy is suspended amply in the air, hanging daintily on the thread of life and death.
Delicacy is the soft and inconsistent beeping from the cardiac monitor. It controls your thoughts; yet is only a shadow on your radar. It shares the rhythm of the pounding in your head, and the thumping in your chest. You strain to shut everything out, leaving only the shy quiver of breathe slithering out from their lax lips. Their lips tremor under the reign of some foreign enemy, and their eyes flutter from an unseen truth. It is the suffering you wish to unburden them from, the pain you would inflict upon yourself in return for both their lives intact.
Delicacy is a light fragrance, a mixture of disinfectant and sweat. Is it the scent of creating a life, or the imminent end of it? Beads of perspiration stream down your face and sting your eyes.
The sweet caress of silk treads faintly underneath your fingertips. You rub the back of her hand, clammy and fragile. Rubbing the skin, you forget who the comfort is more for while footsteps pierce the stillness in the air. A figure dawned in white appears before you. Their form blurs in and out of focus, their voice a toneless muddle seeping through your cloud of stupor.
Delicacy is a whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We can only save one of them." It is the realization that too much pressure, and two months premature, is a cocktail dyed with poison. She looks to you with eyes of understanding and acceptance.
Delicacy is the collapsing of all you know. It is the berating of incoherent words tumbling from your lips for the pure sake of escaping. You're swiftly taken from the room, kicking and screaming to the hallway.
The unsettling tick of the clock mocks your every fiber. You **** the void of silence with the tapping of your foot, taming yourself from barging your way into the room. With the screaming from the bed, the instinct of protection, the stiffening of your back, the nurse quickly ushers you back in.
The soft and consistent rising of the baby's chest is surrounded with the light fragrance of life. The plush fibers of the yellow blanket tug on the skin of your fingertips. The fascination apparent in your eyes, look to her while wondering how this little body will have the biggest impact on your life. Delicacy is the soft whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We made it."
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC