The Release
Can she remember? Can I remember? The thoughts that flitter through, the flickering of lights, illuminating a past she’d spent so long running from, her shoes filled with lead. Oh, how heavy they are. Don’t slip. Don’t fall. To land face down and lay stationary, to let the heaviness overcome, it’s all so dangerous.
Yes. It’s somewhere. Hiding inside, even if she can’t remember. Like a bear slumbering through the winter, his stomach bulging with food, the very nutrients that keep him alive. It’s deep inside of her, slumbering, but ever present, filling her stomach with the guilt she carries, the guilt that threatens to end her life.
Can I remember? Between the flickering images and heavy feet, the guilt filling my stomach and the truth deep inside… oh, yes. I remember.
Sharp as a razor and pressed against my skin. Oh, yes. I remember. The cold orange light and the scrape of cement. Yes, yes. I reached for the stars, my arm extending until I thought it would dislocate, sever, clutch the stars and wish. Palm up, I released each one, a prayer to God riding on their tails as they sailed into heaven.
Breath. Hot. Cold. Until the scream was lost, no longer bouncing from building to building. Send me somewhere, anywhere but here. Release me from his grasp, turn the knife to daises. They’d look quite beautiful with the red of blood staining their every petal.
He found what he was looking for and felt a release.
Yes, I remember. I can never not remember.
Can she remember? Can I remember? The thoughts that flitter through, the flickering of lights, illuminating a past she’d spent so long running from, her shoes filled with lead. Oh, how heavy they are. Don’t slip. Don’t fall. To land face down and lay stationary, to let the heaviness overcome, it’s all so dangerous.
Yes. It’s somewhere. Hiding inside, even if she can’t remember. Like a bear slumbering through the winter, his stomach bulging with food, the very nutrients that keep him alive. It’s deep inside of her, slumbering, but ever present, filling her stomach with the guilt she carries, the guilt that threatens to end her life.
Can I remember? Between the flickering images and heavy feet, the guilt filling my stomach and the truth deep inside… oh, yes. I remember.
Sharp as a razor and pressed against my skin. Oh, yes. I remember. The cold orange light and the scrape of cement. Yes, yes. I reached for the stars, my arm extending until I thought it would dislocate, sever, clutch the stars and wish. Palm up, I released each one, a prayer to God riding on their tails as they sailed into heaven.
Breath. Hot. Cold. Until the scream was lost, no longer bouncing from building to building. Send me somewhere, anywhere but here. Release me from his grasp, turn the knife to daises. They’d look quite beautiful with the red of blood staining their every petal.
He found what he was looking for and felt a release.
Yes, I remember. I can never not remember.
By: Chaylee Brock