seeing death

came home to see life,

and instead

saw death.


I missed the last good years

and the guilt

that breaks my heart

somehow makes me feel heartless.


I remember pink lipstick

and white hair

and too much blush

and ageless beauty.


I remember snarky comments

and worn out advice

and exaggerated stories

and eloquent wisdom.


I saw

uncombed tufts

bloody skin

a blind gaze

a hollow voice.


selfishness wishes

I had closed my eyes,

so my last memory

could be a different one.


but I whisper a promise,

“no more missed time.”


bc, 2016


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s