October 22, 2001, poetry by Ivy Bethea ’19

October 22, 2001 by Ivy Bethea
Erik Stine unsplash croppedYou watched the way my mouth opened
No sound came out
The way your cold
grasped my throat, choking my words
It was on that day tears streamed down
Your bony hand slightly hovered, not once actually touching my skin
Your body floated like a feather in the wind
Skimming the surface
Never once stopping to touch the ground
It was on that day you slightly swayed in the background
Waiting for you

I remember as I lay on the ground, and I saw your stare
You moved with such grace, and passion, stopping a second in between to pay your respects.
To show that even someone like you could care, even if it was only for a minute.
It was on that day the black floated from the sky, coating my body like second skin.
For a moment I saw your face. The one you tried way too hard to keep hidden.
Your beauty was hypnotizing, it numbed my entire body. Your eyes haunted me for days.
It mocked my existence and made light of my pain.
It was on this day I asked you, Why didn’t you leave me? You had no problem leaving her, so why me?
As children, we were taught that you were terrifying and selfish.
As adults, we were taught that you were inevitable
It was on that day I found out the truth about life
It was on the day after, I felt-
It was on today, I realized I missed you

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *