Already…

Is it already this day, two days before the day after tomorrow… another one of those days harrowing of sorrow… reflecting back and I recollect the beginning of the hollow.

The tunnel had been dug, been digging since the sunset dimmed, removing the foundation making flooring bend… impossible to stay stable, unable with the ground sinking in.

The reality starts to halt, the words just months before delivered, unfaltering unwavering no tremble or quiver… are no longer sourced as Love from who they were whispered.

I’ve been here before, the cycle starts turning and hits a kink in the chain… so much is familiar and yet it has an equivocal exchange … it was all raised and laid out with no grasp to remain.

It is already this day, the day before the day that comes after tomorrow… the proclamation set and yet now blame follows… such a sad reflection of the projection, once again, wilted by sorrow.

No one cares

I had a hard day today, none of them are my friends

I had a hard day today, another day of hope and pretend

Things are harder for me now, it’s harder to get through

Things are harder for me now, I struggle through what is easy for you

I am broken now, you just run along and play with them

I am broken now, you say I’m using that old excuse again

I’m struggling, ever since my baby sister died

I’m struggling, please see my brokenness inside

I’m dying, drowning in my brain

I’m dying, yes the – my baby sister died – excuse will remain

one.week

12 hours from now it’ll be one week.
One week since the worst day of my life.
One week since I literally lost a piece of me.
One week since my old world stopped and the messed up version of my world started. One week since my heart died.
One week since I began thinking God doesn’t care.
One week since I’ve¬†started hating everything I don’t have.
One week of pure torture within my soul.
One week that has included comments from random people that rip me apart.
One week that is revisited minute by minute by visions of horror over and again, reliving it over and again.
One week since I felt the warmth of her precious belly.
One week since I could put her little hand in mine.
One week since I could smell her, kiss her, hold her.
One week since I gave up on miracles.
One week since prayer might not matter.
One week since I could apologize to her.
One week of searching for her.
One week of desperately wanting to go back in time.
One week of hell. One week of wanting to disappear.
One week of anger.
One week of sadness.
One week of loving my husband more than I knew I could.
One week of anguish.
One week.