Friday, September 25, 2009

These are the days

These are the days. These are the days that rattle in my chest against the clanging of my tinny heartbeat. Soft thuds beating mercilessly against the cage of rib bone.

This is when every breath hurts. Every sigh feels full of the dust of broken glass. This is when every moment, every movement, feels false and numb. Dumb and lifeless. I want to run away, busy myself into a frantic tizzy to match the torrents swirling inside, but my body, my legs, my back, are made of hard cement and I can’t seem to go anywhere.

So please, let’s walk and get frozen yogurt. Let’s go to the beach and lay against the silky sand, bodies stretched beneath the fading sun. Let’s curl up on the sofa, you and I, and fall asleep heads and arms and hands tangled and intertwined. Let’s let the love soak in until I’m drunk and it’s dry.

These are the days when I can’t believe that I can’t believe she’s gone. And it’s the moments when I wish I didn’t still miss her, that I miss her most of all.