The hum of the city just waking up reached my ears and I smiled, letting the wind rustle my hair. It was peaceful; perfect. And then the gunshots began.
I texted my daughter to ask her exactly where I was supposed to pick her up. Just as I hit “send” she bounced off my hood, crashed through my windshield and landed lifeless in my lap.
You promised that you would never end the it by choice. You chose.
The woman sang a sad song. Her voice echoed through the old empty seats.
Mommy took me to the zoo.
I am still waiting for her to come back.
I’m selling all of my baby’s clothes. They’ve never been worn.
He sat down in his rocking chair on the porch and simply stared out into the distant sunrise, all the while taking short little sips from his fresh coffee, and quick little puffs from his stale cigarettes.
It really was a completely different world out there, without her by his side.
He cantered lifelessly along under the silver bean’s moonbeams feeling beaten and broken. Once unique, he’s now a freak, and he’s only that horse with the sickhorn.
“It was early Spring when we died,” I began, my voice sad. “we didn’t know it yet, but the world was ending that day, and we were just caught in the cracks.”
He knew being sad was not the only choice.He could always kill himself.
I don’t usually smoke.
In this moment, however, the only thing more appropriate than a cigarette would be for it to be my funeral instead.
I’m sitting alone in the basement. This is getting ridiculous.
The Airline says to secure the airbag on yourself before your children. The Airline was wrong.
I stay wishing for the moment for you to come back to me just to hug you and kiss you on the forehead.The real truth is that you never will because the man that took you sold your organs for money and left me without a baby
I always think you should slow down and enjoy life. But when I do, I can’t.
“He’s not coming, is he?” I squeezing my mother’s hand, the multi-colored party hat on my head slipping down. My mother squeezed back, and without a word walked back inside the house.
Somehow, goodbye never feels easy in the mouth; it catches in the throat and twists the tongue and you end up saying, “I’ll see you soon.” As you close the curtain on your way out, the gentle white lie is laid bare and its grim implications jolt you to a halt.
“You don’t understand. You lie, you comfort, but you will never feel it.”
I want to be found, but it’s hard to say so when you’re at the bottom of a pool of tears. I seem to be unable to find my way home; perhaps I’m lost.
Being lonely and being alone aren’t the same thing. I just happen to be both.