words I could have said

there are so many things i could

say to you.

but the words that i come up with most 

are, 

"i'm sorry."

it wasn't my fault, but i

take the blame.

was there more i could do?

more i could say?

none of it would have made a difference.

we would still be here, apart,

forever.

 

you're with me now, in a different way.

that's what i hear, what they tell me.

those words do not fill the void,

the loneliness i feel without your presence here.

there is a silence, now.

a grey, dull emptiness

that nothing fills. 

does time fill the hole?

will i ever become whole again?

or am i left broken, permanently 

fragmented, learning to live as a 

broken record that still 

plays?

 

I feel selfish moving forward, 

yet powerful, too. 

the power i have to take control,

to live. 

but to live, to live and breathe

while you are dead is a battle 

i fight often. 

it shouldn't be you.

it should never have been you. 

 

your warm hands quickly turned 

cold. 

your skin firm and damp. 

your breaths turned silent. 

your eyes became empty. 

there was nothing left but your

body. 

a sick tease the universe gives to us.

we can see you.

feel you.

talk to you.

but none of it is known

to you. 

because you are gone.

 

we beg, plead, pray for the return

we know isn't possible. 

yet even when all hope is lost, 

we believe our ideals can come to 

life.

in that moment, our hope is all we have. 

 

i watched the water flow into your ears,

cold and wet, 

and we waited. 

i couldn't look into eyes, 

as they were.

i knew i would see what i dreaded most.

nothing. 

the taps to your feet, 

the wiggles to your fingers, 

and, at last,

the water to your ears. 

i knelt at your feet, 

on my knees, 

holding your ankles and 

squeezing all of my energy

into you, 

hoping you'd feel it, and

wake up. 

come back to me.

i begged.

my eyes closed as tears 

poured out of my lids, 

flooding my chin and onto 

the floor. 

over, and over, and 

over.

it was over.

and all i could say was, 

"please."

please is what we're taught,

little ones pleading for the 

things that they want most. 

i wanted you alive,

please. 

we forget, i, forget, that please

does not always get us what 

we want. 


we waited for hours, until they 

finally took you

for the very last test, 

the true test.

we sat in silence.

the room beeped,

the nurses checked in.

i sat, knowing what was coming,

preparing myself, 

to hear the words.

 

they wheeled you in,

got settled.

and i stood at your head,

holding it tight to my chest,

that my heartbeat might just

bring you back.

the doctor bowed, frowned,

silent.

i heard the scream.

it was bellowing, crushing.

and all i said, as i looked into

your still, sweet, face was,

"it's okay. i'm not mad."

because you were gone.

griefcoping

◄ directions

the end. ►

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