| *loolaville _poetry | |||||
| My Son The air outside is cold and still and cars roll by on the dark pavement, machines indifferent with lights harsh white and hot red. And I tremble. The leaves rustle at my feet as if they're telling each other secrets they don't want me to hear. The wind invades from nowhere and they scramble furiously. Everything seems to be happening so effortlessly, and my heart catches in my throat for maybe not loving you enough. The tears sting at my eyes though I thought I had none left to cry. I try to remember the exact color of your eyes but I'm afraid I can't and I wonder at this moment if they are open alive and lucid or if they rest shut safely sleeping. I breathe in deep and seconds pass as you flash inside my mind. I see you as a babe at my breast, wrapped warm and tight in cotton blankets. I can smell innocence in your damp hair. What I would give to stop time in this empty and aching moment to hold you again and erase the heavens, and the earth if I have to, to free you from this hell. |
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