Waiting To Tell

Waiting To Tell

How surreal and fragile
the world seemed to be.
Pulsing with silence
A simple inhalation
too much to take.
Choking on secrets
Stealing each breath

Suffocation held my hand
through those dark summer nights
of waiting to tell.
I would stand by the side of your bed
until you could feel my presence
willing your eyes to open
afraid of your irritation.
"Why did you wait so long
until it got this bad," you would say.
always waiting to tell
because it was so bad
I was sorry to wake you
my chest sinking into itself
with each rasping gulp of air.
The ride in the car always lulled me
and eyes soft,
your annoyance would disappear
almost touching the longing
of already missing you.

The glaring fluorescent lights
of the hospital would make
the loneliness of my bedroom
seem distant and my screaming
thoughts only a whisper.
A tightened fist and the needle
would sink until the room was
swaddled in safety
leaving only a pool of blackness
behind me.

Angela Minard 2009©