Years have passed since our falling out, but the news hits me and the world goes silent.
Suddenly, you are no longer out there
existing in the world, happy, quoting Vines, and finding any excuse to wear your hot dog suit.
Memories I didn't even know I had come flooding back,
small moments from late nights at the school paper, road trip snack breaks in the car on the way to D.C.,
and the world feels cold, unfair, broken.
Of all the things I know about you,
murdered in a Taco Bell drive-thru was not a reality you deserved,
not a fact I wanted to learn,
not the way I promise to remember you.
About the Creator
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Overextended
I am always overextending myself to be helpful, taking on extra shifts and late-night calls, piling on others' troubles while mine simmer below, offering up snippets of my free time to the peanut gallery in between. I read once about the importance of a self, but I cannot remember the last time I saw my own looking back at me in bus stop and computer screen reflections. The girl in the mirror is tired, always so very tired, from this vicious cycle of pain and reinvention and lost identity and the rebirth of her image from events that proved fatal, still eating away at her reincarnation.
By Kay Husnickabout a year ago in Poets
Comments (1)
So sorry!❤️