stages of grief

1. this can’t be happening, because i have dreams to chase. because i’m fourteen and the ball is rolling for me, or that’s what my english teacher said. she said i hope it doesn’t stop and i felt like i was flying, when they said they were proud of me. this doesn’t happen, not to me. ‘cause someone bigger and smarter’s gonna make it ok. it’s just another two weeks, it’s just another two days. it’s just another holding-your-breath-underwater kind of day.

2. and i didn’t ask to be thrown

into this fucked up shitstorm of anger and hope

i didn’t ask to spend all day sitting alone

and trying to get out of bed

i’ll watch shitty tv until my brain turns to mush

just write and write and write for hours on end

and the sound of the blender

or a car going past

is enough to melt me down to tears and i’m screaming

and i’m slamming the door

and you were supposed to stop this from happening

you were supposed to be good, and fair

but you weren’t, you fucking shit

you walked out and you left me 

standing all alone in the thick of it

3. but i can’t be feeling this, i can’t deal with it, or i’m going to shut down. i’m gonna stare at the pictures on my phone until my eyes glaze over, and i don’t feel quite so alone. i’m gonna crumble like the dry, hot summer soil any other way. god is dead, but mostly so are all my heroes. so is everyone i thought i could turn to in a crisis; they’re just gone gone gone like whispers in the night. and those that remain are flickers of light across the bay. (i’d rather they were dead to me; i’d rather close my eyes and watch the hurt fade away like wildfire smoke.) 

4. i could dig this grief a garden

or i could fashion it a grave

i could sit in the mud of it for hours

i could stare at this bitch in the mirror, cut off all her hair

watch the new grow back in its place

and feel the years blend together

watch myself get a little bit stronger, and taller

a little bit sharper in the face

i could watch my life roll past me 

through the rolled-up car window

just blink and you’ll be nineteen, all living on your own

still swallowing back the lump in your throat

and trying to numb the ache of your old-woman knees

but the one in your chest, it’s cold and it’s empty 

singing for something that i will never reclaim

5. and maybe someday my heart won’t feel like a singing bowl

forever ringing out one damn moment in my life

but all i see right now is water, ‘cause i’m standing by the shore

i’m not ready to be an adult

cause i didn’t have the time to be a kid

so i lie down on the rocks and i close my eyes

feel the january waves hit my shoulders, rush over my head

fill my mouth with bitter saltwater

again, again, again.

This one took me ages to write- I’ve been reflecting a lot on how my feelings have changed over the past few years.

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