Dig Me Up and Start Again
The dream comes in loops and swirls,
Only it isn’t a dream.
There are splashes of color and
Abrupt blank pages that are always
More intimidating than they should be
But such is life, I suppose.
The hours blur together here.
The air is dry in the husks of my lungs
And above me the sun bears down,
Almost cruel in its once-nurturing warmth.
Stand beneath the light too long, you burn.
That’s just the way it is.
It always stays the same,
And I’m always here,
Waiting for you to find me
Beneath the dirt.
It stung my eyes at first, but I don’t feel them now—my eyes, I mean.
There are only crawling things where flesh once was,
Most of it eaten away, ravaged, and my thoughts are all that remains.
It’s been so long, I don’t remember what I was waiting for.
At first, I felt the sun
And the rain
But now they are only phantom sensations on skin I don’t have.
I’m not sure what is real,
What is imagined,
If I am even here at all.
But still I feel that I must wait.
I don’t recall.
Days pass, maybe years, probably decades.
The earth stirs above me and the darkness shifts away.
The light would be blinding if I still had eyes to see it.
I can feel the fresh, clean air wrap around my bones,
The gentle hands that lift me.
Long past saving, I’m not expecting salvation,
But it comes anyway.
The cold dirt and crawling things that had long been my companions
Are ripped away.
Though I loathed them, some twisted part of me
Longs for their return,
For the comfort and reassurance,
Of the devil that I knew.
Your fingers brush the dirt from my bones,
A soft caress,
Like a fleeting kiss along my jaw where my lips used to be,
And I think to myself how odd this is,
That we should meet again this way,
After all this time.
And I remember
It was always you I was waiting for.
I wonder if you still think I’m beautiful,
If my curves and lines still take your breath away.
You gasp as your fingers lace through the dirt-encrusted necklace
Still clinging to my spine
And I think,
There are answers here in the dirt.
There is stillness, but also longing.
I want to tell you all of this,
To share the things I’ve learned.
I think you’d want to know
But I lack a throat for words to form in,
So they only drift away,
Maybe you knew all along that this was how it would be
I can’t wash the sight of you from my mind,
Even with my brain long since rotted,
The smell of your cologne,
The pressure of your lips against mine.
You always burned so bright.
Am I still in your thoughts as you are in mine?
Does the scent of putrefaction draw you closer
Because it’s mine?
Will you kiss me again,
With the same tenderness as you did when you took my last breath?
Death has never been so romantic
As it is in your arms.
Then dig me free,
And we’ll start again.