These Days

A burgandy curtain separated and blew open-- the silky, soft material twisted with the breeze as I watched the clouds cover the sun. The breeze had a purpose and the frost covered everything in sight, solidifying the waters where tons of memories reside. Sometimes there's nothing I can say. There are feelings and thoughts scattering like hungry birds in the street. I cannot pick them up. I cannot put them down or back where they came from. There aren't enough words or perhaps those words I desperately want to say just don't exist. I keep telling myself I have to be ok with the fact that I cannot describe how life feels on a certain day but my depth exceeds itself. I want to stop thinking; about my father, my mother, my relationships and how life doesn't stop for one second so I can catch up. I have this pain in my head for almost two years now, it is always there, it never goes away. There's just this slight ache in my heart too that I haven't been able to ignore, even though I am an expert at ignoring things I'd rather not be aware of. With that being said, I've gotten worse at being me yet I am such a good version of myself, better than I ever was. But doubt moves through these veins clotting the blood, stopping future movement and straight from my lungs the air goes. Suddenly, everything is spinning while I reach for something concrete. I slip, grab, slip and grab. I worry more than ever that eventually there won't be anything left to grab. When I think of how many months, days and hours have passed since the start of this confliction I almost cannot believe it.
On most days, it seems I have dealt with the fact that I'll never see him again; I'll never have the chance to experience family the way I've wanted to all my life, other days I tell myself to stop but the yellow, frail image does not subside. No matter what, his eyes, the sadness surrounding them, the cruel, wicked, blackness underneath them-- the disstendent belly, the colors black, brown, blood red and yellow; these images awaken me from the deepest sleep. I tell myself not to think of the years I spent loving someone that could not love me or that most of my friendships really weren't one-sided. You cannot run from the truth because it continuously runs after you, faster and faster.
Time has been an asset, easing the storms as they blow through the soul. Still, I'd give anything to go back and erase what has been done.

-HB