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©