I carried him.
not like you carry a child,
not like you carry love
i carried him like a wound,
i carried him like that pain you never forget
heavy with the silence
thoughts of every word i'll never hear again.
he used to laugh.
gods he used to laugh loud and glorious
now the only sound is the groan
of the earth splitting open
to make room
for someone who should still be alive.
they said, he's at peace now.
they said, you were lucky to know him.
but luck is a cruel word.
it means i had something
and that something was stolen.
and peace?
peace is for people who never stood
in the painful silence, holding a casket
that lowered theirs into the ground.
at 18 i've watched too many eyes
close forever.
Kenneth,Therman,Billy,Vern,Kamasay,Roy and so many more.
heard too many last breaths
rattle like empty promises.
stood in too many doorways
waiting for ghosts
who never came home.
they don't tell you
grief makes your body forget
how to be a body.
that food turns to dust.
that sleep becomes betrayal,torment
you see fore in your sleep
you witness faces and smiles that are lies.
when you wake?
you carve onto your face a false mask
because the world doesn't stop.
the world may not...
but i stopped.
inside, i stopped long ago
the clock ticks, the sun rises,
but nothing moves in me.
and nothing ever will.
because death doesn't take them
it takes you,
piece by piece,
until all that's left
is a name they say wrong in eulogies,
a photograph gathering dust,
and a scream buried
so deep in your throat
it becomes your voice.
so if you see me,
and i seem quiet
know this:
i'm talking to the dead.
and they never answer.