Saturday, November 17, 2007
7:01 PM -
everything under my chin
Current mood: guilty
Category: Writing and Poetry
its an appropriate amount of numb. A measurable tangible amount of non feeling. or not. god i dont know what i feel.
Suicide? god no, how could you, she didnt its not true. please take it back.
If I werent numb already I would be by now. What am I?
There is nothing brushing against my face again.
nothing against the cheek i cant feel and the chin i cant hold up on my own, i am melting into my own tingling nerving nonexistance.
I have no one to sit with me while I am still.
I am desparate to feel it. Hit me, once twice or six times.
Pinch me awake to function. Roll me over and let me breathe. Give her back.
I am at a loss for words. I feel too much loss to actually feel.
I picture myself standing in front of someone, anyone taller than I.
Standing with my face in his hands looking down.
The numb side of my jaw cupped in the small palm of his right hand.
My hair just brushing the top of his hand as he holds my ear between bony fingers.
All I know is, there is a thumb on my face, and I should be aware of so much more.
And he becomes you, as I becomes one defiantly fragile part of we.
And we are just an energy waiting for your love to keep us.
We stand at her grave with empty eyes hoping to take it all in. This bigger picture, this bigger part of your plan. Can you visualize the guilt on our shoulders?
I never want this honest moment to end.
See right through me as we become we all.
Hold us there until I can feel the pressure to crumble to my own knees before you.
Come with me to the floor and hold me there.
Hold my chin up while I have no thoughts. Feel my warm tears?
Take the pain of those years I've seen and those I could not, can not, hope to not have to--- help. God help her, and we and him, her again, us and I.
We need you right now.