I'm talking about you and me.
A light and a shadow.
A bright star and a dark ship.
The night, the wind, the silence.
The sea surrounding us.
The majestic sky.
Your smallest breath.
~
I have nothing anymore.
Four walls around me.
I'm calling out your name.
Can you hear me...?
It's me...
I love you and I miss you.
About the Creator
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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