Old Poetry

 

 “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.”

 

The red lights swung, the harshest color I’ve ever seen.

Like blood, but on fire.

Each time they met my gaze my heart twisted

banging against its cage of white bone.

It’s soft flesh trying to battle.

Bone wins. Locking my heart behind bars. Crushing.

 

I was useless

lying on the stairs with a crucifix in my hand,

chanting prayers to the old summer night bathed in a blanket of pre-September dew.

Blur. The circling red mixed with a flashing blue.

My lips were purple.

 

Panicked faces and dull screams of electric shock

coursing through a body. Coursing through him.

Sounds are a dangerous thing

getting lodged deep down in the convexes of the mind.

Torturing the soul long after the echoes have finished their reverberations.

 

I could hear her pleading with God,

hear his lungs pleading with his heart.

Please – they said. Please.

Live – they said. Live.

I want to live.

But God didn’t.

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