Thursday, December 25, 2014

a waiting room to purgatory.

I am the teeth rotting out of your face. 

I am the ghost that haunts their empty space. 

the secrets hiding in your mouth, held and chewed and kept at bay. 

those bones that creak, the lies you speak,

it's me. 

it's me. 

it's me. 

every night I pray at the edge of that grave, which for some reason, no one has ever bothered to fill. it occurs to me ever so briefly that maybe I'm the one who was supposed to fill it, but then the thought is gone. 

my knees pressed into the mud, my hands to the sky, "help me!" I beg her. "what do I do now that you've left me here? what do I do without you?"

I'm here, she whispers as the dry leaves flutter around me. Its me, she says, as rain falls into my upturned palms. when she was alive, when she was here, when she was the girl I went to hell for and stole her back from the devil himself, she had eyes like fog and needles. 

she had eyes like the dead.

but I believe she still saw me. I had to.

she had arms like a sieve but she still held me, tighter than I've ever been held. 

I know she's here. I know the sun that creeps up over Death Knoll has her in it. I know the wind that bites and nips my cheeks is her. but I can't let go of who she was, who she used to be. I always said she was too beautiful for this world and I stand by it, I do. I'm sure now that she breezes from heaven and earth and back she's in a much better place. I know she's happier. it's why her words are gentle. it's why the lavender air is so faint you'd hardly notice, if you weren't expecting it. 

but FUCK her. what about me?

when the warmth from the morning wakes me up graveside, a brand new day filled with promise, I beg her to come back. if anyone can do it she can. 

it's because I love you, the dew (her) tells me. I can finally show you now. 

I turn my face. I want to hide. I hate the sun. 

but now, the birds chirp (her), the sun never stands still. you have mornings, noons, and nights. you have everything you wanted. everything you asked me for. 

maybe I didn't steal her from the devil after all. maybe we struck a deal. yes I wanted days and nights, I wanted sun and warmth and life and stars and love and hate and oh... but I wanted them with her. 

after everywhere I went for her. after all the people I was for her. after every despicable, disgusting thing I did, the gallons of blood I washed off my hands for her, I had hoped I would have something to show for these scars besides the fucking sunrise. 

nobody likes to watch the sunrise alone.