In this strange senseless darkness there is a small light.
Like a light under in a closed door's frame in a scary dark room, there it is for me.
(more) However, I have no control of when or how to open that door to get to the light on the other side.
I can only see the sliver of light. With no control of how to get to it. But I know it is for me. So I try to focus on it. I try so hard to focus on that light.
That small glimmer blurs from time to time. Or it becomes gray or even fades into the darkness completely. I struggle to bring it back into focus.
I go about my life. This and that and the mundane and the important. I go about my life trying to focus on that sliver of light.
Where are you now? Who are you now?
The light that I have is hope that some day you will be back. Maybe when this old world sinks into oblivion, you will not be taken away with it. My light is that hope that maybe we will walk through this tragic scene together and then you will be beside me. Maybe then you will stay?(less)
The truck had hit him going 55 miles an hour and the driver behind the wheel's blood alcohol content was so high that he didn't even flinch as he hit Mathew Walburn, the loving father of three on his way back from picking up a box of NyQuil from(more) the small market just 2 blocks down the street from his dingy apartment, where the sitter and his three lovely children were waiting for his return.
A harsh ringing in his ears is all he seemed to be able to hear as the weight on his chest increased.
Opening his eyes, feeling blood running down his face, he found he was looking into the perfect hazel green eyes of his recently passed wife who lost the battle to cancer all but 7 months ago.
"Oh, my dear how I missed you." he said with a gasp as tears commingled with the blood on his face.
"My poor man... my amazing man you are so strong." said his wife drifting her fictitious hand across his face.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't save you... I'm sorry the cancer won." he croaks with the weight in his chest growing.
"You did save me... Everyday I saw you playing with the kids, or every-night you stayed awake to make sure all my medication was administered. You saved me everyday."
"Now come." she says. "Your in no shape for tears." she says with a slight smile as she moves onto the concrete next to Mathew's broken body. "Find peace my love... you will be in my arms again soon and from heaven we will watch over the children."
"Dont leave me." he gasps.
"Never, I will stay beside you until the end of time my darling."
Mathew was dead before the ambulance ever arrived. (less)
Stay beside me
Wild-eyed, hauling in
Every precious breath
Like the air was honey
Watch the pretty white tiles
Stain with advancing red
(more) An army of plasma amd hemoglobin
Oozing thick and hot
Over my porcelain hands
Which were cold as the tiles
Stay beside me
"that time you drank too much and couldn't be there and my date had a thing and couldn't come either, that was shitty."
"you seemed okay. you didn't seem like you needed me so i thought it would be okay," she said, the same half full glass of(more) beer between us.
in november, the last time i saw her saw each other, i trailed her and her friends and she snorted white life into her nose and she never said, "are you having fun?"
"Did I seem even a little bit not okay that night?"
"Not that I could tell."
"Well, you weren't exactly paying attention." I finished the beer, and knew that she wouldn't move to get another one. This was an intervention, at a bar, where i would tell my ex-good friend all of the things she already knew. she denied nothing, accepting everything, and still, she was elsewhere.
"You were making out with Jesse in the back seat and I was in the front where I could see the driver do lines on her iphone. I can't believe you thought that cokehead and I would be a good match."
"I didn't know her as well then as I do now."
"I didn't know her then either, but I saw her drive while drinking and high and I wondered how well you knew me to think that."
"I didn't know she was high."
"You didn't know a lot of things."
I was the interrogator that evening, asking impossible questions, feeling like the forever teacher noticing too much, caring too much, unafraid to voice impossible things, ready to release.
"When people judge me, I become rebellious."
"I love you, its your behavior I don't like," I said and heard myself back, not her parent, forever sounding like it. (less)