In the end.

What are you thinking she asks?

There is no answer. Only the silence that she has now come to know.

What happened to all the words?

It seems they were ripped violently from this plane

only to be absorbed by black matter that will never let them go.

Where is the laughter? Why has it died away? Were there no watering holes to fuel it’s liquid needs?

What of the tears?

They have dried and formed small hills of salt on the plains of her existence.

Where is the proof of lovely times past?

It has disappeared like invisible ink.  Only to be seen again when acidic juice falls upon the pages. Revealing what was but is no longer.

What of the heart?

It wills upon itself scar tissue, in the hope of covering open wounds.

But it wasn’t all bad. Right?

 

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My father …

I miss my father.

I’ve been thinking of him lately.

It’s odd really.

I have wondered recently what it would be like to talk to him about relationships and guys.

Strangely, we never did when I was growing up.

And now that he’s gone, it’s something I find I would really like to discuss.

Well that and the fascination that people have with football.

You see, my father loved the sport.  So much so that when I was growing up, my mother made him promise to spend one day a weekend with the family.  You may not think this would be much of a hardship, however to my father it was like being asked to donate an organ on a weekly basis.

I imagine that today would have made him very happy.  Even though his beloved 49er’s weren’t in the game.

It’s at times like this that I wish I could see his handsome face light up with child like excitement once more.

Michael (my father) loved life, holidays, Summer time, BBQ’s and so many other special things.

I realize that I am just 6 years younger than he was at his death.

He was much too young.

Alas …

Sleepless and Discontent …

I am exhausted but I can’t sleep. 

With each passing moment I become more frustrated with my inability to rest.  The tossing and turning is only interrupted by exasperated mutterings of  “no”.  The word slips out as if  by its own volition.  A side effect of the restless discontent my mind, soul and body is now feeling. 

I haven’t written in some time and there’s an underlying current of displeasure that this is the subject I would choose to share after so long.  As if it would be more appropriate for me to pen a verse or spew forth a story of sunshine and flowers.  

I wonder, how many others are awake at this moment, wondering the same things?