She wakes at three
in the morning
sweaty and confused —
Heart rapid fire
feeling black and blue
Plunges her hand under
the pillow
to check for her phone —
Head wrecking ball
feeling alarmingly alone
No missed calls
or messages
capsized by her panic —
Hands earthquaking
feeling episodic and manic
blue alone manic
rapid wrecking earthquaking
waiting waiting waiting
plunging into fire
capsized
into blue panic
Heavy heart
Heavy head
Heavy hands
The roses had withered and blackened
Lips still crimson —
helplessly unable to let go.
“Why”, he asked me, “why stay?”
I looked away, not knowing what to say.
‘Maybe’, I thought, ‘it’s time to let him go.’
What do we really know?
He saw my pain, he took my hand.
“Come with me,” he said, and it began.
I followed him into his world; blinking, not from the light but because it was a terrifying sight.
The darkness, the frigid wind. It was bleak and it was grim.
Someone laughing, sent chills up my spine; it wasn’t the contagious kind.
He was gone; my heartbeat quickened; “where are you?” I called, my limbs all stiffened.
Sobbing, I heard, ran towards the sound. My screams piercing through me as I saw what I had found.
He’s in pieces, broken, blade in his hand. Crying tears of blood, unable to stand.
“I can’t, I won’t!” I said, “I won’t let you go! You’re coming with me, don’t tell me no!”
I gathered his pieces, broken heart and all, sew up the wounds so he could stand up tall.
We ran, hand in hand, I thought I saw the light. “We’re getting out of here!” I told him, “I’m ready to fight!”
Back to my world, it was getting close. He let go of my hand and said, “it’s no use.”
He was giving up, consumed by the darkness. He began to fade, blending in with the blackness.
“No!” I cried, “I know why you should stay! Your world is a cruel one, heavy without hope. But there’s another world out there, one you can cope! Let me bring you back there; I’ll stay by your side. Please, little brother, please don’t die.”
He wanted to choose life, he wanted to stay, but the world had failed him, persuaded him another way.
It’s just easier. Easier to be alone.
Don’t have to worry about checking his phone.
Easier with the dishes. Not too many to clean.
Don’t have to worry about what he didn’t mean.
Easier in bed. No snoring in my ear.
No. Don’t miss his body, holding me near.
Easier in the morning. No make up, no shower.
No, don’t have to worry about marriage and power.
Easier with the kids. No drama at all.
Don’t have to worry if he’ll catch my fall.
Easier when the family gets together.
No, he’s not here again, I’m alone forever.
Easier without that diamond on my finger.
No, there’s no heaviness, no weight that lingers.
Easier without the smell. No more Bacardi.
Don’t have to worry about all his mini parties.
It’s easier to be alone. No more abuse.
Don’t have to care about his being obtuse.
Easy, just look. It’s easy to do.
No, my heart’s not broken, it’s good as new.
It’s easy to be hard. No more being weak.
No, I’m not crying, my eyes sometimes leak.
The easiness comes and the easiness goes.
After all, it’s what my kismet chose.
writingsformydaughters 