The blood curves
Taking its course throughout the body like scrubbed paint drying, while slowly excessing droplets of memories
I scratch the blood from my eyes that scream to stream out, creating pieces of air bubbles that scatter on the floorboards of dreams
It curves in a way that’s fragile to my body yet settles my sobriety of trying to figure out how and why what happened, happened
My eyelids flicker back and forth like blades just flying through the air but feel as though they are...still
like a paper plane coursing through a tornado
I feel as though I am accustomed to being shielded in this dome of chains and can’t tell whether or not I am being tortured or suffocated by the depths of lying latitude
She said she couldn’t wait,
couldn’t wait for her anymore like a fly on a window ready to feel connected to a swatter
No. I didn’t want to be selfish I really tried not to
but I couldn’t see her holding onto air like rain hugging a leaf
And as I cried
cried for hours
my body becoming weak as weeds in a cornfield, burying myself with myself
I would sometimes face the corner of a wall pretending it was a portal that would take me to her and back
reuniting with those warm hands that still remained warm after it was over
Tilting my head up to meet the sun’s rays and chuckle With a wide smile, of course
singing, don’t worry, be happy
Because I was happy.
Because when she left, I left with her
And I was happy.
This poem is about the death of my grandmother due to cancer. This shares true events, feelings and dialogue leading up to the fateful day. When she left me, a piece of me went with her because I was apart of her. For anyone who has lost a loved one, a piece of you is with them.