Everything stopped the moment
my eyes scanned the words,
reading it over several times,
each time not understanding.
It's not real. It can't be.
But it is. And he's gone.
My hands can't decide whether
to freeze or shake and I
can't help but stare at the wall.
I don't speak. My friends gather,
expecting words, but I don't speak.
For long, long minutes, I don't speak.
Each breath is agony,
each movement an exertion.
My chest aches and my lungs
refuse to work and it's not until
I feel water on my hands that
I realize I've already lost it.
I want to process but I
don't want to think about it;
and I want to hear about it
but it rips me apart to hear
my best friend sobbing over
the phone so far away, and
all I can do is stare at the wall.
