The blink of the stop light and the metronome of the wipers compete for control over the beat of my heart as I think of my final moments with her. I’m writing her features on my mind so I don’t forget everything important to me now. I feel her close breath on mine, but she’s gone, gone, gone and her image is a haunting ghost I’ll one day pretend to dismiss with an uncaring glance from the corner of my eye. But for now, I can drink in the loss. The dam I’ve built behind my eyes strains against the pressure of these rising tears. I let it fail. What shall I do once the snow is gone and the Christmas lights have faded to empty glass? How will I get by when the phone rings on that random Tuesday flooring me without her fingers to straighten my hair? Sad to want someone to love but to only see fog between the sky and the water, intermingling in their white veil, like the veil I’ll never lift across her face. The stop light blinks trails across my life which are swept away with each heartbeat.
March 20, 2011
By the way, this didn’t happen to me. I just thought it out and it sounded dramatic/poetic to me, so I wrote it up and posted it here. But thanks for the comments of consolation.