the day he didn't kiss me back.
the hall was long and littered with nurses and doctors making rounds at about six thirty in the evening on a wednesday.
his room was in the back corner of the icu, and so i had a fairly long walk out to the waiting room where half of griggs was waiting with open arms.
flourescent lights buzzed, and nurses looked on at my red eyes and faint glare. monitors beeped and paraded. there was a tv on somewhere, and someone was laughing at a joke. he walked right next to me.
my hand went to my lips, which had just kissed his now lifeless lips for the last time. hands tasting of two weeks of hospitals and that orange soap, they lingered on my mouth, covering the quiver.
"i was the first of you to really live, and i am the first of you to never die." those were the words that came to me from him as i made my feet keep walking, pounding, running to the waiting room, clutching my sweatshirt, hoping it couldn't be true.
i opened the double doors to the dim waiting room, and i rounded the corner to meet the eyes of people who had their hearts broken just the same.
i stood in the middle of that terrible room, meant only for waiting and killing time and ringing phones.
"my boy's gone, and he's not coming back. my bean's not coming back," and philosopher caught me as i nearly fell to the ground into some darkness that had been growing in my heart for over a week.
because somethings are uncontrollable, and some people can only hold you, and sometimes your legs can't support that heavy of a heart.
i've been numb for a month now. i've been closed for business and sleeping to cope. i wouldn't let it touch me, and i wouldn't let anyone pour salt in my fucking wound. you can't stitch me up, and no amount of hope is going to get me to see the better of the world. and no, i'm not feeling better, and no i didn't have a good day, and no he hasn't left my mind for a second, and no i can't find it in me, and no i'm not turning my back on you, i'm turning my back on me.
