—It’s been 699 days since he murdered you.
I believe I shall always count the moments you’re not with
me. Always remember your voice. Always love you the most.
I’ve been thinking about the oddest things lately.
For example, when
you’d unexpectedly stop in the center of the Waterfront Trail, look up into an
old birch tree and call out, “Who’s
that? Hi, baaaaby. I heeeear you. I seeeee you.”
When I looked up, I’d see a bird. Just a plain old bird. A nameless bird. Nothing
magnificent like a Mockingbird or
Cardinal or Blue jay…
….but you thought it
was the most beautiful creature in the
A simple bird.
But you observed the
beauty in everything.
Even the murderer.
Isn’t that the reason you stayed?
Isn’t that the reason you allowed him to make you small,
You. Were. Everything.
He. Was. Nothing.
I still awaken thinking of you. You’re
the first reflection in my head.
Your hair blowing in wind, your eyes closed evenly,
The sun shining upon your face.
Sometimes I find
myself waiting for the phone to ring at a ridiculously, outrageously early
…with you on the other end purring, “Kimmy, are you up yet? Just called to say I love youuuu.”
Oh God Oh God Oh God
When I get like that, when I memorize like that—
my heart hurts. It
hurts so fucking badly.
It hurts like loneliness and death and darkness and breathlessness
and anger & aching all mixed into
And I wonder, I wonder….. how the hell I’m standing?
But I am. I am.
People have told me to
N E V E R
People have said,
“You need to release her.”
N E V E R
Not as long as I have breath inside my body.
Not as long as I have a pulse.
It’s strange, but all the same feelings that hurt me deeply—
Are the same feelings that move me forward to get out of bed
in the morning, brush my teeth, make
coffee, and apply my lipstick.
I mean, my heart is still beating.
So that must mean something.
But I still can’t believe it’s beating when you’re not here,
my Dear Sister.
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