Thoughts of you

I hear his voice, "She said it's cold outside and she hands me my raincoat...she's always worried about things like that...She says it's all gonna end, and it might as well be my fault"

...and I'm back in time.

I can see your eyes. I can feel "us" washing over me again. The need for your kisses comes back like the need for the air that I breathe.

Perfect love.

Years have passed now. Yet, some nights, you visit me in my dreams. Your familiar warm smile, I love the way your eyes dance all over my face. Morning. I open my eyes, and move not a muscle. Never ready to let the feeling go. Never ready to let you go. I want to feel you just a moment more, but it's gone. You're gone.

September 11th took so much away from me. This war took so much away from me.

The long nights, in an empty bed waiting for your calls at 3 am, a world away.

I blame the war. It took you away from me. So much death and dying.

I've added "us" to the list of the dead.

Perfect love, lost.

I'm sitting on the uncomfortable cushion of the steal chairs in my pretty new cotton black dress. Like a little kid I have both feet pulled up off the floor and I'm sitting Indian style.
Yes.
In my dress.
All I need is a head-dress with feathers and a peace pipe to complete the ensemble.
I need to have my feet and arms pulled in as close to me as possible. Otherwise, I'm too exposed. I feel too vulnerable.
The buzz of recovery is floating around the room. I hear it go in one ear, feel it float around my head, then weep out of the other ear. I'm looking around, I finally find a focal point on the wall that I can burn my eyes through. The anger inside me is building.
It's been there since Saturday. I can't seem to find it's source, but it's been festering for days. I fed the anger well. The wave of disgust passes over me as I think of how much I fed that festering sore.
Finally, silence.
"I'm angry."
It just fell out of my mouth.
"I'm really fucking angry."
There it was again.
Then, the tears down my hot cheeks as I feel my voice come out of my dry throat. Never once taking my eyes off the wall.
The air is filled with fear in the form anger, disgust, hate and rage.
Once the words stop...
I breathe.
My feet are now place firmly on the floor.
The fear is replaced with hope and love.
Words, give wounds the air they need in order to heal.

I'm alive.
I'm happy.
It's a brand new day..and with each passing day I become more at ease