Sunday night. A cooling silent autumnal evening sky. Deaths slow and gentle strangling of the land begins. A kill in anticipation of faraway spring. Waiting. Dying. Love of my life, his light, his warmth, his laughter gone forever, someone elses now. My son at his dads, the five of them his normal family, as opposed to, what? Me, alone always. Empty house, and me staring at photos from when Mike loved me and I believed the word forever on his mouth. When I believed alone would die instead of love. The cat prowls the backyard for shivering grasshoppers, the almost dead, to toy eith, or worse, to ignore. Too easy, weakened prey in the rolling cold wind. A train whistles in the far distance. Going somewhere. Away from here. I wish I had the guts to go, too. Not much lonelier in all the world than me, right here, right now. God help me.
Posted on: Mon, 29 Sep 2014 01:15:59 +0000
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