February 5, 2019

Cracks

I should have gone to see you last Sunday.

I was so tired.

Regret.

I’ll go next week, I thought.

There’s time.

Time is predictable until it runs out unexpectedly.

Time ran out.

I’ll see you in West Virginia.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

Will this put you back together after you fell apart?

It isn’t your fault.

13 months of loneliness is bound to leave cracks.

The cracks opened – trying to swallow you whole.

My arms can’t reach you.

I release my grip.

My hands and arms support the weight at home.

They’re watching you from the edge.

I have to keep them from falling.

Do you understand?

Next year, will the cracks be filled in?

How can you take the first step upward if you can’t see through the darkness.

You look in the mirror, but you don’t recognize the reflection.

Blog, Poetry

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.