Thursday, 25 January 2018

Patchwork Girl (January 28, 2008) Part 2 of 4

Reaching up
I grasp the patchwork doll
Within my hand.


Noticing
For the first time
As I turn it over
Various repair jobs.


From her mom's strong
And confident stitching
To Ellie's loose
And inexperienced stitching.


Tears
Run down my cheeks
Streaks of black mascara
Marring my face
Before landing on the doll.


Remembering
Your final hours
How you needed
Everything to be
Your way.


Your refusal
Of my urgent pleads
To leave the nightclub
Before it's closing.


Only
This once
I wish you
Had listened.


But
As the old saying goes
Hindsight is
Always perfect.


In my mind
Can still picture
The accident.


As if
Shot on an HD camera
In crystal clear detail.


Like
It was yesterday
Not eight years
Of haunted sleep.


Begging
One more song
Ellie you know
I could never turn down
Your puppy dog eyes
Able to melt
The hardest of hearts.


Knew better
To admit defeat
Heading back
To the dance floor.


One song
Turn into another
Before the last song
Was announced.


A quick glance at my cell
Show an hour later
Then I like
But worth
Your blissful look.

Stepping out
The September night air
Slams us
Like a sledgehammer.


Shivering
In our sweaty clothes
As goose bumps
Upon goose bumps
Covered our bodies.


With chattering teeth
I tried to hail a cab.


Why
Did Fate have
To take you
Ellie?


Gladly
I would have
Traded places with you
Just ten paces away
From me.


More
An earwitness
Then an eyewitness
To the accident.


Screeching
Of brakes locking up
Thump of a body
Hitting a car
People screaming.


Driver tries to flee
Your body trapped
Underneath.


Could not look away
As it unfolded
A surrealistic nightmare
Come to life.

Therisa © 2008

Author's note: The second of four part, of a poem taken from my poetic morgue.

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