eight.

i felt it shift, did you? did you feel that through your legs and arms, chattering teeth and rolled back eyes? did the low rumbling vibrate your skin? did it throw you off balance?

and i felt the pain wash over me like too many baths, skin scrubbed raw; no one really noticing that eight months later, we're still struggling.

but i felt it. that shift of pain from one side to the other, razors against my skin, cardiovascular difficulties.

sorrow subsiding into anger and misunderstanding. sadness beaten down by misanthropic behavior and a taste for camel lights. morose face livened by kind touches.

my throat has started to hurt from all the screaming, and my eyes burn from dried salt. but my tired hands keep punching, and these goddamn feet keep walking like they'll find home one day.

and through it all, i lay down quietly to sleep while i dream and murmur, staring at all of you through the puckers in my sheets, waiting silently.

did you feel that? did you hear the soft roar and shiver from the tone?

he seemed to be struggling against his decision, two parts of his mind. slowly moving his mouth to try to take in air, just like we all do, everyday, and he stayed very still with tiny movements of his fingers, like reflexes saying goodbye.

every twitch of a hand lit a spark through my body, and i'd think, "did you feel that?"

"can he hear me?"

"can he see me?"

"is he in there?"

i traced the shape of his hand so many times. sometimes talking. sometimes crying. sometimes staring at those hands i knew so well.

did you feel that shift? from one side to the other? like metal against your teeth, like catching a small bit of skin on something sharp?