"Like Dying"

Aaand the poetry continues... Here's another from the Lit Café last month.

Like Dying

Your words to me signalled an unbearable finality

I didn't want to hear them, but, I had to hear you out

I had to hear you say that this was, indeed, the end.

You did.  And, it was.

The end of us -

The end of us and we and our.

One call.  Five minutes.

Years of heartache.

I grieved my loss in silence

I petted my sorrow in my bosom of discontent

What little words I found within and without

I used to mop up tears of anguish.

And, when the words were full

I'd wring them out again.

Nobody tells you it's like dying.

I had heard you. Loud and clear.  I was there.

But I felt better, safer, in denial.

My anger seethed and I drowned it in drink,

And ink - never to you.

I tried bargaining - I called.  I wrote. You would have none.

How I got the courage to

Fulfill that pre-death obligation

Remains a mystery to me.

Fifty people at that party, and I'd never felt more alone.

On the way home - and at home - I cried. 

What did you do? And how?

Me? I'm still working on accepting that we've died.

-Dnafcnatgada

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro