"The human mind has a primitive defense mechanism that negates all realities that produce too much stress for the brain to handle. It is called 'denial'."
Empty
Alone
Vast void in my heart
Know how I feel
Feel how I feel
Then maybe I would not feel so alone
I want to forget, yet I desperately want to remember
If I forget, you’ll be deader than you already are
Then I will be dead
I need to keep remembering you
I need others to know you
April
April makes art
That’s all she does
Something comes upon her
A spirit, and she makes art
That’s all she knows
And grief
April knows grief too
For a long time grief is all April has known
And now,
Grief is all she feels
It is the air she breaths
It flows through her being
Like oxygen, it pumps in her heart, in her blood
It feeds her brain
It emits with her carbon dioxide to form and mold her consciousness, her aura
It forms her spirit
Everything about her speaks of true, deep grief
Disconnected from what is real, her heart and soul have drifted away to find whatever it is that she has lost
They will not give up on their search, they maybe never will
I was April
I was April but now I am lost.
That time very long ago, I was very very happy
I had love
My eyes flip open.
It is daytime
The stream of blinding light in my face is not a surprise
It has been day time for a long time
Only, I did not want to admit it until the last possible minute when I cannot evade
the inevitability of being alive any longer
Lying in bed motionless is becoming impossible
The sheet is too rumpled from my incessant tossing and turning
The new mattress is hard
I have thrown out the old one because it had his smell all over it and thinking of
him was too hard
Irrational, I know
He is coming back.
It isn’t like he is gone forever!
But somehow, six months feels like a long time
I don’t want to spend it all thinking about him
And so I need to minimize my contact with anything that reminds me of him
Which is impossible anyway, since this entire house is stamped with his essence
His smell
His sound
I look around the room, and I see him move about, a towel wrapped around his lower body,
He is getting his clothes from the polished wooden dresser, his handwork, while swabbing another towel through his dark black hair
I can see distinctly the water escape in droplets from the ringlets of hair to fall to his slim, pronounced nose
I watch the drip drop trickle down to the floor from the tip of his nose as he listens attentively to me talking
Only, I am not talking anymore, I have stopped to watch him
I watch him as he moves
His presence, his being, commanding the space as he moves around in long, confident strides from one spot to another
My protector, my soldier
I feel strength in him
He turns abruptly to look at me
He has noticed I am not talking anymore
And he has stopped to watch me too
He moves his lips perhaps to ask why I had stopped or to tell me to continue
But no words come out
Or perhaps I just cannot hear as I am now lost in the depth of his pale, bottomless grey eyes
And then he is gone
Or I have woken up from a dream I am not aware I am dreaming
I blink
And I feel a fleeting need to wail
I look up to the ceiling, the wood panel stripes
He is gone
Chance
I jerk, opening my eyes suddenly, and sit up
It felt like an electric shock had just jolted me awake
Or like I was falling fast and suddenly wasn't falling anymore
Did I sleep without knowing and have just woken up again
Or did I dream what seems like the last few minutes
I rub my eyes roughly with the back of my palms
I am not looking forward to today.
Watch out for Part 2 next Sunday.
