the most beautiful photograph and all the ghosts he left behind
Tuesday, Aug. 17, 2004 @ 11:37 a.m.

in olanzapine sleep he has found something inexorable and unattainable that i will never know.

i took a step away to draw my breath from another direction. to escape the foul staleness of the space below my floor. i would hear his lullabies in the background and know they were no longer played for me. empty sound. empty, civil tones that lulled another to a better place while i lay warm and safe and far away. not out of earshot.

a new venue. and another. i'll dog his steps through all of my tomorrows. thinking what i need is to be away. when what i need may be to stop trailing and dodging and reading. or to make a repair i'm incapable of making from such a distance.

i stand on a bridge in the rain. overlooking a pennsylvanian ontario. the hospital lights marring my view. the traffic less like cattails than i'd thought. the rain colder than beautiful. knowing i shouldn't be there. that things would be easier if i walked away again. but wanting my repair. i'm expecting him to be somewhere behind me. i'm preparing my apologies to a silent night. and my selfish plan for redemption never comes to fruition. it was never meant to be. it was never meant to be.

it was never meant to be.