Dead WeightWhen my heart actually does beat, it hurts. She says that I am cold and I tell her it's because I am not alive. I am dead and have been for a long time. "I want to help you," she says. But I know that I am beyond that now and even though I wish to god there was a way she could do it, she can't. I know because she's been trying and it hasn't been working. Hugs, kisses, the way she brushes my hair back at night when she holds me in her arms: all of it is nothing. There was a time when her hands, her smile, her touch lighted me up like a burning star. But it's been a long while since then, and all I'm left with are the beautiful, faint memories. She will not give up though, even if I have. Maybe that will be enough.  |
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