can feel so heavy.
Even when you are getting somewhat used to it.
Wandering the halls
pulling out drawers
choosing simple things
like hats
gloves
sweatshirts
soft sides
to harsh hollows
numbness
looking for an outlet
wishing words could carve wounds like knives
his words
his voice
his touch
his presence
each leaves weeping sores
swollen, itchy, invisible
All consuming, nonetheless
Sometimes I think I might feel
like an accident victim
barely able to remember my past
my face bandaged
my body broken and casted
I have to let time
work its magic of making me
even more imperfect
functional
new. I try in desperation
to find patience
to see how I will be, when the defamation
a melting moments of mourning
fade....I will be
Different
Whether or not I want that
is irrelevent
different goes where different wants
and we are swept away in the power
of its deluge
I have to find the crystal strength
to close my eyes
push through the fire and ice
of death and loss
walking charred through these months
knowing what I want will never
be there
never hold me
never touch my lips, my hair, my heart
Quartz to vibrate inside building flexibility
blood stone for courage
garnet, his birth stone just because
I am transpicuous in my vulnerability
broken burning shards of lucid loss and loneliness
or so I would like to believe
because ultimately
what I want
need
is someone to see me there
inside
burning.
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