tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30794496573906087972011-04-21T21:35:51.390-07:00Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09463272297665252015noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3079449657390608797.post-5260790207465981822008-10-12T15:05:00.000-07:002008-10-12T15:08:29.699-07:00I’m here, sometimes shattered,<br />Mostly just numb.<br />My mind swirls<br />Your smile, your biting kisses<br />Drawing blood<br />I finger the sheets<br />And look up at the ceiling<br />I imagine you here<br />Touching my hair<br />My smile as I reach<br />Out for you<br />The ache, deep inside<br />My fist against my chest,<br />Grinding at the pain<br />To me, you are a ghost<br />A phantom I dreamed<br />Into being<br />A wisp of trailing smoke<br />I tried to hold onto<br />My hand is empty,<br />Trembling<br />I stare at my fingers<br />Remembering<br />The feel of your hair<br />Where are you?<br />My heart beats wildly<br />Tears flood my face<br />Is it just me?<br />I thought you were real<br />We were real<br />Your extra clothes<br />In my drawer<br />Folded neatly, waiting<br />For you<br />That’s all I have<br />To anchor me<br />Against overwhelming<br />Disbelief<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3079449657390608797-526079020746598182?l=jamiebytes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09463272297665252015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3079449657390608797.post-79007368197372936802008-10-12T14:26:00.000-07:002008-10-12T14:45:29.127-07:00Fall is my favorite season. Pumpkin everything - latte's, muffins, shakes and pies. The air is crisp and clean; the nights are cool. The leaves are breathtaking against the blue sky. Kids go back to school; carmel apples, corn mazes and rain. So I'm a little bummed that just 21 days into the fall season - it snowed! Yes, I love the snow, too. The flakes last night were beautiful, falling softly from the night sky. But this morning, the snow on the ground seemed incongruent with the still-green leaves on most of our trees. Across the street in the cemetery a young man in a black suit walks across the grass, hands in his pockets, head down. His feet crunch softly in the snow and blowing leaves. He stops and looks up at the gray sky, then down at a headstone. I watch him from safe inside my warm house, my breath fogging the window. The scene tears at my heart and I wonder who he is mourning. As I watch, his shoulders start to shake and his hand brushes across his face. He kneels in the snow and hunches over his knees. I turn away from such private grief. This is how it feels when winter comes before fall. When time is cut short.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3079449657390608797-7900736819737293680?l=jamiebytes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09463272297665252015noreply@blogger.com1