Dirty Dancing
She looks like a model, only not one at all, a healthy weight above all. Claims she is one who will always be there in a great time of need, but now I get to play a game of guess where she is, being gone since I was 7.
No I’m not talking about a friend, but someone who died within, sent me through a wall of hell, made me cry enough to fill a well. It hurts to this day, not as much, but enough to sting and make me question what I do. She was my grandmother, but she was still young, she smoked a lot and eventually passed, in her sleep, gone now and in the past.
She watches from the clouds, watching me, watching everybody and sometimes if I listen really hard and pay close attention, I can here her whisper random things, but then again, the dead can’t talk.
So now I am here, typing these words, word count now at only 168 soon to be more, but now I simply close the door to the public eye. I will yet again, cry alone in a room I share with no one. Silence creeps up now, taking my breath with it.
Slowly.....
Fading
Away
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