towering losses, collapsed civilizations
built upon the wrinkles of hands
kissed as you fell asleep for the last time.
i could not say anything and i regret it.
-
"the kids are at bereavement camp,
jenna started crying in a dairy queen
and said that's where grandpa always
took her after school to get blizzards."
-
my grandma looks through pictures,
unable to answer questions.
-
i don't know if it's a real memory but
everyone told me that he won my
bear robin in vegas and i remember
being small and it being a
dark place but my grandpa was there and
i was safe again.
-
i don't want
to write anymore.
A long road, smudged out
by the fingerprints on my eyes
left by millions of painful
people prying them open;
and my thoughts like moths
leaving behind their silver dust
as they flutter, away,
finally free from the darkness they suffered
inside of me, never feeling the warmth
of a candle or the death of sunlight,
as they leave, i am grateful, sad.
but moreso i am afraid;
as they disappear into whispering pillow talk
i come to hear an echo
i am not who i am supposed to be.