ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴘᴇʀɪꜱʜ

just maybe

july 18

the water is cold because i have been in this bathtub for an hour and perhaps even more. the water is cold because i have no care to move and release myself from the uncomfortable feeling of the tub on my back.

the suds have dispersed, leaving my once-sunken torso to be revealed. the room has become humid, and the air is stuffy yet i didn't care once again.

secretly i wished the drain would unplug itself, swallowing me up as i cry because that would be better than allowing dawn to flood my head.

she's in my mind, making me think of things i don't want to think about. like the time we bathed together and it was the most peace i would ever experience, she's making me think of the way her skin felt, the way it looked.

she's making me think of how we intertwined souls a night we shouldn't have even been awake for, making me think of how my hands were shaking against her pretty chest, how i was scared to even look let alone touch her there.

how soft she was, how fragile. she was so delicate and beautiful, i wanted to frame her.

as i now stand, knees popping like an old woman i remember her voice, how i still hear her as if she's been sewn into these very walls. 

"billie" she'll laugh, pushing me off of her as i tickle her.
"billie" she'll cry, as i comfort her and protect her from anything i can.
"billie" she'll yell, as she tells me to accept the fact she's dying, that i can't help her.

so many emotions i can feel upon me, stabbing me and scorching me like i was nothing. 
it causes me to feel the fabric off the white pants and shirt too much, it hurts and it burns.

dawn didn't want black at her funeral, because black is dull, black is sad, and dark. she wanted white because she said it meant new beginnings.
she said white could create any color you wanted, even if it was just a smidge.

as i stare into the mirror trying my best to cover up my bags and puffy redness i huff. i miss dawn, but i don't like missing her.

because i can remember her so vividly, she's in everything. my dreams and my thoughts, it's corrupting.

and i know i should be grateful, to be able to see my beautiful girl once again but those are false realities.

those are things i got my hopes up for, things that never left the fantasy cloud inside of my head.
-
here i was at dawns funeral, waiting ever so painfully for it to end. i hear the pastors speak of celebration, of joy, and tranquility, but that's not what i feel.

they say "god has joined you with him  dawn and we are so happy for you" and they sing and they sing and say even more angering things like "we celebrate, we celebrate your life and your victory to join our heavenly father."

and i feel my hands shake and my face twist because everyone is singing and clapping but me. i don't feel calm, i'm angry, im mad that the universe took dawn away from me, from everyone in this room.

i'm angry that i couldn't have her, that they wouldn't let me grow old with her.
i'm angry that they could even say she won. im not going to lie, and try and convince myself dawn was winning that fight when she died because she wasn't.

dawn lost. she lost it all. she fought all her life and suffered an inevitable defeat.

and now, as it is my turn to speak i step up the two steps and stand at the podium.
my hands shake on the wood and my voice cracks before i can even speak.

as i read the poem i wrote for dawn, i see her staring at me with her big brown eyes. dawn looked different, her hair; grown out and full, her skin; bright and smooth.
she's smiling at me as if she hadn't heard this writing before, her hands crossed over each other as i looked around the room.

how could no one else see her sitting right there in between her mother and tiana?
perhaps i was going crazy, going just completely out of my mind but i don't mind it.

her face was enough to keep the tears back while reading, her smile and her eyes were enough to get me through as i step off the podium.
i sit next to her mother, instead of in between them like before, and no one questions it.

no one questions it because maybe they can see her, maybe dawn never left. maybe dawn was still everywhere i went, and maybe— just maybe, i needed to look.

817 words