Slipping Away

A dying man admits he loves me. I lie and say I love him too. I hear his rattle breath before he’s gone. Life becomes a snowy valley. I travel in the cold toward an unknown home. I can’t open the door because I don’t belong. This is where people who trust themselves spend their days.

I meet a bearded man who wants me to follow his lead. We reach a mountain and watch the sky change. He holds my hand and gently opens my soul. This is when love falls apart. He leaves me with no reason. I spend years tormenting myself. I could have done something better. Who I am isn’t who people want.

The train passes. People complain of the noise. I’m accustomed to it. What bothers me is silence. I need music. I need shadows. I need a small space I can squeeze myself through. I meditate. I become agitated. I take deep breaths. I recognize who I am and don’t like it.

I see why my father couldn’t do better. Children can’t cure your illness. Love is not to be used as medicine. I need a human to touch. To kiss. Someone to embrace my eyes and show me that I can be happy. But how can I believe them when I don’t even believe my own words?

Mornings are messy. Dirty dishes in the sink, crumbs on the counter, day old coffee. I’m sleepy. I drag myself to finish what’s needed. No one else is here. My mother’s breath suddenly rests on me. The dead do come back. But the bitterness of what’s been stolen remains.