—I feel you leaving me.
Your voice a distant whisper thru the pines.
Your cheek barely skimming my cheek.
Your hand releasing its fingers from my fingers.
I feel you letting go.
I haven’t cried myself to sleep for 30 whole days now.
The tears are dried up.
The blood. The salt. The pain….
flow inside my veins…
always. always. fucking always.
A continual rebirth of loneliness.
Prayers soak thru me even when I’ve stopped praying…
I sleep with the words motionless upon my tongue.
I sleep. I sleep.
My closet spills over with your long coats that once smelled of perfume, hairspray, & vanilla creams from Body Shop.
Now they smell of nothing.
They are merely coats hanging lifeless, unresponsive, indifferent.
I checked the pockets to find something—anything that reminded me of you.
I found pennies, matches, an old movie ticket from when you saw Twilight.
The days are long now that you’re gone.
The nights are darker than they ever were.
I feel you freeing yourself of me.
Your breath not heavy…
but slight against my skin.
Your lips not speaking…
But smiling against air.
And your long brown hair streams thru sky…
as if you’re waving goodbye…
–My sister, Kay, was murdered by Mike Peterson 520 days ago. The clocks stopped ticking. The universe tilted. My heart broke in two.
**For support and more information please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at– 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or at TTY 1-800-787-3224.
click here NOW >http://www.thehotline.org/get-help/help-in-your-area/
–Dear, Reader– if you, or anybody you know is being abused (in any way), get help.
Do. Not. Wait. One. More. Minute.
Tell your stories. People will listen. I will listen. Xxx