Oct 302016
 

I sold my soul and the Angels are Weeping.

I stare into better days as seen through my own mind in the form of drawings on paper and I am scared that I can see an island I will never see again, swim in a spot I grew up in. Everything has changed in the blink of an eye and strangely it’s a pain that I never expected, a permanency that I never thought could be felt. Yet each of those waves in the water that roll toward the shore and break are reminiscent of my heart. They depict a tragedy that 6 months ago I could not have foreseen.  Not emotionally anyway.

I had to find you, tell you I need you and beg to go back to the start and as I stare off into my drawings hanging on my walls I realize that there is no going back to the start. Today cannot be taken back and tomorrow will never again return.

Death is 100% permanent.

Life is 100% fatal.

So why can’t I handle this? Why isn’t it easy? Why do I yearn to watch my blood flow from me so that I know I am alive while simultaneously wanting to do whatever I can do make the pains of life stop –even if it’s just for a few minutes?

The water will never be that same shade of blue again. The sun will never feel so warm. The strength of a drink will never feel so good coursing through my veins. I sit here, and I weep. I cry out and my voice echoes off the empty walls of life.

The light on top of his corpse will never be as bright as it was the day it first started, a speck of light within his mothers’ womb, flicking on and off like a lightening bug in the cool summers night. Like blinking eyes glaring at you from just above the reeds.

Gone are the days of sleep overs and drawing on one anothers backs as we whisper to avoid waking up our grandparents. Secretly loving how good it feels to feel that finger run along your back while you guess what it is creating. Preparing you for an intimacy that seemingly will never come because if you accept that intimacy it may mean that you will never feel those tingles up your spine again, the caress down your back. The hands that hold your hair as you lay sick on the bathroom floor. The cousin who removed a rock from my elbow when I refused to let the aunt who was a nurse! Gone are those days, never to return, never for the children to replicate because now love and life has been replaced by technology where the words “I love you” come easily to so many and a friend is someone you have likely never even spoken to.

 If they can all leave us, one by one then whats to say tomorrow won’t be the same, hold the same pains, cut a little deeper, push a little harder. Why do we fight the inevitable?

Tell me you love me.

In this life and the next.

Tell me that next time around it won’t be this hard. That my heart won’t break 1000 times before I am 29.

Tell me that my babies are safe in the Heavens above and tell me that I will be someday soon as well.

Tell me that the only one who possesses me is the person whom I have given myself to and that that won’t ever go away. Stop tearing me apart. Stop making me bleed. Stop having me run in circles when I know that there is an off-ramp to a better place instead of being brought back to the start.

If you love me, won’t you let me know?

I am a shell of who I once was, a shell of who I no longer can be. I stare down and read my name on the grave and I realize just how cold I am and I wonder why the angels are weeping and my heart isn’t beating.

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