Tuesday, March 6, 2012

It All Falls Down

*This was my first attempt at 'freestyle' poetry in my creative writing class, and probably also a desparate cry. 31 creative writing students heard it; one Ben did not.

In a cheerful yellow house

at the end of the block,

our son took his last breath

from blue lips

and the color drained from our world.

I live in his memory;

you live to forget.

One foot in front of the other,

just existing

around a little white box of ashes.

A box of baby’s ashes is quite small.

"It’s okay if you two don’t make it.

No one expects you to," they say.

I pause.

They are right.

We are changed.

We are broken.

Most couples fail this test.

But this is not a test; It’s us.

I want you to love me

even with this hole in my chest.

I want to love you

even when you smell like you’ve been trying to forget.

I pretend to sleep

while you pretend to sneak,

tiptoeing into your clothes and collecting your keys

though our eyes have locked

while unsaid words hang between us.

The doors close,

locks click into place,

your engine grumbles to life and fades as you drive away.

I’m left with the sounds of an empty cradle

and an echo

that I long to release to you:

"Please don’t go, too."

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