66 Days (And Counting)
12 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
The universe,
(life)
Makes much more sense,
(is easier to get through)
If you assume
(imagine)
That there is a big plan in which
Every little thing always turns out all right.
Were you scared when the lights went out?
Were they slowly dimmed or was the power cut?
You woke up that morning wanting to get your hair done,
And a day later you were so medicated you couldn’t even think straight.
But you waved goodbye and liked my joke,
I could sleep when I went home then.
But no, not tonight.
No, how will I ever sleep tonight, or again.
I miss you so much,
And the idea of “never again” hurts more than any imagination can ever perceive.
It’s been 66 days, and still no relief.
I check again, and it’s been over 120 days. Still no land in sight. Still no one to help me out. Just my only hope teasing me every day.
It might be years before I find peace,
But if I can be so forward,
And I don’t think I’m out of line to ask,
Could you please allow me a little comfort?
Preferably in the form on people not dying,
And maybe a hug?
Maybe I just want it all to be over,
To stop being reminded every day that I’m alive,
That you are not.
Maybe just being able to say, “I love you,” and hearing it said back is all I really need right now.
66 days, and still no relief.
127 days, and I can’t sleep.
Rubber Blade
12 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
You know that feeling when it’s raining and it’s late at night and you just want to get home and it’s just drizzling, not pouring, and you have your windshield wipers set on some slow speed that you’re sure is fast enough but then the little drops of water start to collect and everything turns into something Monet would have really loved to have seen and all the lighted signs you pass and every brake light and reflection in the road is transformed into a beautiful but dangerous freeform symphony of stained glass and ocean mist and all you’re waiting on is the next swish of the wiper blades to clear everything off and make it all clear again but it seems like a month before it finally does and you’re too stubborn to just make your wipers go faster or make them clear your windshield manually because of some intimidating little voice telling you that you’ll be an outcast and the only person with their wipers going that fast even though that makes no sense at all and eventually you have to give in and do it anyway and it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt when you finally do give in?
Well, I know that feeling.
