Kevi
06-23-2010, 01:32 PM
My arm slid over the vinyl as I reached to grab your hand. Tucking my elbow into yours, I intertwined my fingers into the spaces between yours. Looking over, I gazed at the blues in your eyes, mirroring the sun, intermittent flashing as cars passed. Leaning into you, I feel your warmth and comfort. The road curved to the left, the sun creeping behind the hill, skies beginning to darken. The rain started out as a few lone drops, speckling the windshield, soon to be wiped away. The pendulum of the wipers calming me, lulling my eyes closed, letting the noise take me. Dazing into a comfortable rest, the rain against the glass, the tires on the pavement, wet. My hand squeezes yours as reassurance, and I let sleep take me.
A scream, I’m ripped from you as the car jolts violently off the road. Flashes of figures, glass pressing into me, grinding against the frame of the car and my side. Lifted up, off of the cold metal, the cuts and gashes dripping red. I look for you, distracted by all the light and noise as I’m asked questions. Can you feel this (help me) does this hurt (where are you) minor neck injury (are you hurt) This isn’t important! I try to say. I try to convince. I see you finally. Eyes open, those brilliant blues. They’re different though, not searching for the words, not looking into mine, just blank. Reality sets in, so begins the first day of the rest of my life without you.
My name is Kate. I am 26 years old, 5 foot 9, and dead inside. My body moves around, my mind functions, but my soul is fractured. The kind of break that doesn’t just take one path; but branches off in so many ways that it consumes your very being.
Sheets tied, twisted at the foot of the bed. Red blinking numbers, blurred through my morning vision. Beeping reverberating through my head, good morning.
Eggs, juice and toast when you were here, coffee now that you’re not. Coffee and more coffee, later; more coffee. The heat I can feel, it burns, but it’s something. Forehead meets table, they exchange worrisome comments about how my behavior can’t be healthy. Brain notes that a talking table might not be a good sign either. Table tells me to shut it.
Shower, fast. Minimal effort to make appearance decent. Dress, match blacks with black remember, and never brown with black remember. Things were easier with you around, your grimace at my wardrobe concoctions were enough notice to adjust my decisions.
Into garage, grasp the handle. The new, shiny metal makes me sick. Glossy, fuel efficient, piece of remembrance. This can replace the vessle, but not the valuable living life that was inside (I miss you).
The buzz of the tires treading the road, moving along. Passing the fences, the bus stop, our…my favorite music store. Blinker left, enter lot, park. I burn one last cigarette before entering my eight hour waking sleep. Inhale.exhale.inhale (your screams)exhale.
note:this is the first thing i've ever really written, opinions would be wonderful :)
A scream, I’m ripped from you as the car jolts violently off the road. Flashes of figures, glass pressing into me, grinding against the frame of the car and my side. Lifted up, off of the cold metal, the cuts and gashes dripping red. I look for you, distracted by all the light and noise as I’m asked questions. Can you feel this (help me) does this hurt (where are you) minor neck injury (are you hurt) This isn’t important! I try to say. I try to convince. I see you finally. Eyes open, those brilliant blues. They’re different though, not searching for the words, not looking into mine, just blank. Reality sets in, so begins the first day of the rest of my life without you.
My name is Kate. I am 26 years old, 5 foot 9, and dead inside. My body moves around, my mind functions, but my soul is fractured. The kind of break that doesn’t just take one path; but branches off in so many ways that it consumes your very being.
Sheets tied, twisted at the foot of the bed. Red blinking numbers, blurred through my morning vision. Beeping reverberating through my head, good morning.
Eggs, juice and toast when you were here, coffee now that you’re not. Coffee and more coffee, later; more coffee. The heat I can feel, it burns, but it’s something. Forehead meets table, they exchange worrisome comments about how my behavior can’t be healthy. Brain notes that a talking table might not be a good sign either. Table tells me to shut it.
Shower, fast. Minimal effort to make appearance decent. Dress, match blacks with black remember, and never brown with black remember. Things were easier with you around, your grimace at my wardrobe concoctions were enough notice to adjust my decisions.
Into garage, grasp the handle. The new, shiny metal makes me sick. Glossy, fuel efficient, piece of remembrance. This can replace the vessle, but not the valuable living life that was inside (I miss you).
The buzz of the tires treading the road, moving along. Passing the fences, the bus stop, our…my favorite music store. Blinker left, enter lot, park. I burn one last cigarette before entering my eight hour waking sleep. Inhale.exhale.inhale (your screams)exhale.
note:this is the first thing i've ever really written, opinions would be wonderful :)