A BEAUTIFUL BOTTLE OF SOOT

A BEAUTIFUL BOTTLE OF SOOT

The beach was empty,

Just the way I needed it to be. I don’t know if Matthew had something to do with it,

But I was glad he was with me. I cradled the glass of ashes in my hands, and looked in the distance.

I felt a comforting squeeze on my shoulders, and I wanted to pinch the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want to cry. I had accepted it.

Eleven years down the line, it was the time to let go. The thing was, it did not feel like it had been that long.

Shaking his body, crying my eyes out, and screaming the hospital down, it all seem like just a moment ago.

I still heard my cries.

I still remember willing him to open his eyes, telling me to not bring the whole house down, in that teasing voice of his.

I remember holding his hands tight, willing life into it, and wishing he’ll say, you’ve always had so strong hands. Your mum sure fed you a lot of calcium when you were a kiddo.

I remember it all. I remember the nauseating feeling that washed over me when they covered him all over, and I had to fight the vomit that was coming up.

I remember standing still, and waiting to snap back to reality. Waiting to be kissed by my dear one.

I remember the days after. There was no ice cream taking.

I was numb. Nothing could get through me.

I never accepted his death. How did you accept a death?

I wanted him back.

I remembered lying on the floor in the living room, and waiting to wake up from the very long dream.

I remember living, with the hope that he’ll come back,

And everything would go back to the way it was.

Life was a blur.

There weren’t any friends.

I became a zombie,

Seeming with life only when it concerned work.

I remember staring at the bottle of ashes every night before I slept, I remember it being the first thing I looked at in the morning.

I remember caressing the ashes on weekends as I watched videos of us together.

Taking the ashes was an acceptance of his death,

Even when I still willed him to come back.

I wanted the love.

I wanted the sex.

Oh… the sex.

I missed the connection sex gave us.

I missed make up sex.

I remembered meeting Matt.

I turned back to look at him,

And he smiled encouragingly,

Then I crouched,

Took the lovely glass of ashes,

Let the wind caress my face,

And opened it.

The first few ashes flew away,

And some came to my face,

As if teasing me.

I felt Matt beside me,

Then turned to see him crouched with me.

A solemn look on his face.

He was in this with me.

He had lived with the reality of what Drew’s death did to me.

I still asked him how he ever thought I could be whole.

He said he saw my soul, (the answer he joked with, but one I accepted on a deep level),

And knew I needed him.

I turned it to the side,

And more ashes flew out.

Then a strong wind blew,

As if eager to take him,

And I smiled.

I was ready to let go.

The sand on my feet,

The wind blowing my hair,

Matt’s hand on my shoulder,

And a beautiful bottle with soot.


Hi there, thank you for reading the poem. Did you like it? If you do make sure to say in the comments section. Also, feel free to share your thoughts on the poem. I’ll love to hear them.

You can check my blog at

http://femiiesther.wordpress.com

where I post poems, personal journals, and prose fiction.

FEMIIESTHER©

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