I am tired. My soul feels like an old woman exerting her energy just to saunter out to the mailbox and back. To find no letters, no bills, no advertisements. Cane clutched in her hand, shawl draped round her shoulders. My stomach cramps. I am hungry but no food will quench the twists within me. My body is weary. My muscles can only hold my bones together to sit here on this couch and breathe. In. Out. In again. My eyes close and tears fill them up like a shallow bird bath under a torrential downpour. A cat cozies up aside me but I can’t reach to pet her, to recognize her tender purrs. It is not the end. The end of this pain, nor the end of me. But right now I can do nothing but feel it. Feel this awful, sickening torture. It’s all I have. I want none of this. But I can’t say goodbye. I can’t let go.
After Seeing You.
08 Monday Oct 2012
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