There are days
There are days.
If my house was burning to the ground, I would hesitate my reaction. I would sit, cross legged, and contemplate whether leaving was the best choice or not. I would sit, fingers tapping on my knee, and ask myself if it would really be considered suicide if I didn't leave the house. And if I didn't leave the house, and was rescued, would it be attempted suicide? Would I be punished for sitting in the middle of a burning house and contemplating? Tapping my fingers on my knees should not be such a punishable crime; I would think.
He is dying, and every day I tell whatever being out there that it shouldn't be him. He needs time to live a good life. He is dying, and everyday I tell myself that it should have been me. You can't get there fast enough.
I want my last look to be the moon in your eyes.
That's the negative side of life.
That is those days.
There are days.
Styx. I'm two chapters in of just beginning a life that I can't steer.; but I can smile. I can lay down and smell the faint smell of a being on me. I can lay down and close my eyes for more than five seconds because I'm beginning to not be as scared anymore. My book is about thirteen chapters from being over. I can breathe now.
In days there are five out of seven that lag on me; sometimes eight. In years there are sixteen that have chased me down for ages; sometimes forever. There are guitar strings that unwind, and there is a tuner. There is a car that slows down, and there is an accelerator. It is that look of a lioness to her man across the Nile.
I will swim to you.
That's the positive side of life.
This is these days.