I'm surrounded
by my family
but smothered
in pain.
We all are.
I know he loves me
but I feel this
distance.
It's not just
physical.
It's me.
This house is a waiting
tomb.
We wait for death
as it crawls down the street
like a tumbleweed made of
tar.
I miss my bed,
and hearing the hum
of my fan
at night.
I miss walking up my stairs
and
sweating under my too-bright
bathroom lights.
I'm not alone but
I'm lonely.
I'm not despairing
and life is still ever
beautiful and grand.
But I think I deserve to mourn
(just a little)
a life that is now over.
