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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Thoughts of a Widowerdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: saartha
    ASL Info:    27/F/US
    Elite Ratio:    4.06 - 230/384/131
    Words: 838
    Class/Type: Prose/Depressed
    Total Views: 968
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 4500



    Description:
       A quick drabble done in the wee hours of the morning. I don't normally write prose, but I was fairly satisfied with how this had turned out.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThoughts of a Widowerdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Today, I woke up as the sun went down and wondered why you werenít there with me. Why you hadnít woken up with me. The living room, where we had spent so many evenings together, was half void and half golden-red glory. I myself was betwixt the two. My head hurt, my right hand was wrapped around a beer bottle. It was all I had left of you, this one beer. The only type youíd ever drink. I still have your shirts, your clothing, but theyíre clean. They donít smell like you anymore. Youíve been replaced by soaps, deodorizers, things that smell of chemicals and alcohol and hospitals. The beer was the only thing that you left me, before you went.

    The doorbell rang once, twice, and then fell silent. This was not the first time that the deathly silence in our halls had been disturbed. A red light blinked steadily, rhythmically at the edge of my vision, in the shadowed side of the room. Twenty four calls, twenty four messages, and not a single one from you.

    I would never hear your voice again, even through the static-filled recordings of our phone. I would never see you outside of photographs. Pictures would never be enough, they could never show what you were truly like. Your smile, when captured, lost all joy for me. If only you were here, so I could see it one last time. So I could touch skin rough from the rigors of life, a hard life that you had never once backed down from.

    My head hurt from drinking myself into unconsciousness over and over again, but it was nothing compared to how I felt when I was sober. The pain was dulled a bit. No, thatís a lie. I missed you every bit as much drunk as clear-headed. There was no more solace to be found in drinking even your beer.

    The sun sank low on the horizon. The gold on the carpet slowly, gently crept away from me. My right arm stretched, following it as far as it could. And then, the light slipped from my grasp and I was warm no more. You were my warmth, my soul, my very being. With you gone, Iím nothing. Not even a husk of what I once was, with you by side. Not a shadow remains of the person I used to be.

    Another phone call, another unanswered ring. A short message that I didnít bother to listen to. They were all the same. Call me, sorry to hear, lets get together and drink away our sorrows. They had all been the same since the hospital called. It was all that drivers faultÖ

    Another lie. It was my fault. You wouldnít have been out there, driving in the dark, if I hadnít made you angry. If we hadnít fought, if I hadnít pushed you away, you wouldnít have gone. You would still be here. I donít deserve your warmth. I didnít deserve you at all. I think that was why I was upset to begin with. I was so afraid youíd leave me. I was so scared that Iíd be alone, without you. If you were here, I bet youíd laugh. You always were a fan of irony.

    When they called, my heart stopped. I donít think its started back up again yet. I donít care if it ever does. I didnít think you would ever die. When I got in my car and drove to the hospital, I though that once I was there, once we were together again, everything would be okay. But by the time I got there, you were gone.

    Oh, your body was still there. But it was gray everywhere there wasnít red. They didnít want to let me see you, because they said that you were already gone, but I wouldnít believe them. It wasnít until I touched you, shook you to wake you up, that I knew you had left me.

    Iím sorry. I know you didnít hold grudges, that you were too good to ever do something like that, but Iím sorry anyway. I donít know what Iím going to do without you. It wasnít that we were two halves of a whole. You never allowed yourself to rely on me that much. Rather, you made me a better person without ever asking anything in return.

    Itís a beautiful crisp autumn evening, and all the windows are open. Its cold in here, but you always liked the cold. The weatherman said it was going to rain, but I guess Mother Nature decided Iíve cried enough for the both of us. I sobbed over you, and I havenít stopped crying yet.

    I keep feeling around the floor, looking for some still-warm spot, seeking heat from a sun long since set. I miss you. I miss you so much. Iím so cold without you. Please, bring back the warmth. I need you.




    Submitted on 2007-02-10 17:20:14     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      That Deserved a comment. I don't usually even READ prose, i lack the attention span for it, heh. But just damn! That was Very good, which sounds lame but i really can't think of anything better. This was...beautiful, tragic, wonderful, sad..well written, and more but i don't know what. It took my breath away. It's an old idea, but this gave it, i dunno, a rejuvenating shine...odd for a story so sad.

    -misty
    | Posted on 2007-09-17 00:00:00 | by misty_of_moon | [ Reply to This ]


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    January 10 07
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