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Soften The Blow

Soften The Blow

A Story by Brittany

 

 

 

      How many times a night will you give me a heart attack

you yell for me                            in a most painful way, I open the door

   to find you distressed at your

cell phone. "I don't know

who just called!" You cry out.                     I console myself by only half-answering. I leave the

anger

and the

rehearsed sarcasm to                      myself.

I watch you re-arrange phantom hair around your face.                   I take you

gently back to the   

          Kitchen

 

where we've never once had a meal. I feed you soft words

until your eyes get tired of being   op en.

 

                                     (I

   can hear the hissssing

                             from you're oxygen tube,

                 it makes me think of

            a snake.

                   Curled above your lips,

      slowling entering your

                                   nose.

                                      Eating                              its own tail)

 

                   Funny.

                   When I was a child, I used to sneak M&M's out of the clear jar in the

        Kitchen.

                   You used to always catch me. Now, I watch you instinctively move your hand towards

the small             op ening in the desk.

                  We both know what's in there. But you pretend I don't notice.

 

        And I pretend it's not there. This makes me sad.

 

 

                 Outside

   is chilly. We've somehow Transitioned            Autumn.

                  (Into)

 

         And I've missed it.

    I watch you suck down a cigarette. Then another.

    The house is warm, just like we left it. The glow from the television lights up the

    

        Kitchen, and

I wait for you to go back to bed.                I can hear you groan your way towards

the pillows, and you mutter about ghosts in the cables.

                                  "I don't know who called me." You say with the sweetness

of a child. Then,

 

           silence.

 

        (Goodnight.)

     

 

 

 

 

 

                  

 

 

© 2010 Brittany


Author's Note

Brittany
Everything is intentional.

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Reviews

Completely heartbreaking. The structure is amazing. Well-thought out and put together. I know this stems from reality so there's not too much I can say about it. But the way you put things into words and your strength with metaphors is humbling for me. You make things look too easy :)

Posted 10 Years Ago


When you create with words as well expressed as you do, I'm not really sure if breaking it up like this helps or distracts from the "life" created here. Your work is incredibly fresh and original. Impression intaglio on your readers minds. I would use less word arrangement here. Excellently written.

Posted 10 Years Ago



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293 Views
2 Reviews
Added on September 23, 2010
Last Updated on September 23, 2010

Author

Brittany
Brittany

MT



About
I don't know me. And, you don't know you. We fit so good together 'cause I know you like I know myself. more..

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