one for the head, one for the neck and one for the chest… bullet, bullet, bullet laid you down to rest… something led you to your future, which is now a part of my past… a year and a half of memories not strong enough to last… weirded out by mixed emotions, i can’t pick just one to feel… put into the subconscious believing that’s what it took to heal… to heal the wounds of something stolen that cannot be retrieved… to restore a faith i was born with that i no longer believe… a family so stable, a biological father willing unconditional love, willing to provide… i have no evidence of truth, are these posthumous statements just comforting lies?… as i look at photos, body worn out from abuse… it does little to comfort me much, it only leaves me more confused… to confess anger would be a sign of no compassion, a heart not willing to forgive… to announce sadness, to display tears seems like such a burdened way to live… maybe a moment’s glimpse into your chaotic life would change my mind… but that’s not realistic, so i’ll have to go without what i’ve longed to find…..
©2001 josephine b. ciliento