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6/18/17

by Meghan Helmich

About a thousand deaths for my heart
barrel roll into a shallow grave and
cave into a quiet sleep, covered in loads of
dirt and sprinkled with moss to mark me.
Everyone will come to pay respects.
full of contrition and sorrow, "Wasted love,
given to all the wrong souls and spat back at
her," they will say, heads hanging low.
"Indecent treatment every day of her life."
Just time to rest now, no matter the weather.
Killing time under the earth, with the worms.
Less loving and getting hurt and
more sleeping, peacefulness, silence.
No more beating for someone in vain.
Open-mouthed surprise at the difference below ground.
Putting nothing at stake anymore, not even the quiet
quick stop of the heartache that echoed inside
remains to tell the story of me, pages of me.
Somewhere I was counting days until this funeral,
through rain that soaked the soil and wind that
undulated above and below with the emotions of others.
Vicious tears and ferocious heartache.
With or without you, heart, and your purposes, an
x-acto knife for my body art, carving the beauty until
years have gone by, and now we can sleep.
Zoned out and letting go of that life.

06/18/2017

Author's Note: Another abecedarian

Posted on 06/22/2017
Copyright © 2024 Meghan Helmich

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