When You Died I Read

When my world fell apart I went to the bookstore.

I went to the bookstore because there I am a stranger.

The aisles are just hallways and each person is just a traveler.

I went to the bookstore because the pages on the shelves

hold more stories than I ever will so within those pieces of paper

They must know greater heartbreak than what I am feeling

and there is a comfort in that

knowing that in this bookstore as I pass each title

I am not alone.

When my world crashed around me

I didn’t buy anything at the bookstore.

I wasn’t there to exchange paper for paper –

I ran my fingers down the spines of each bound cover I could never have

and I thought of your face.

What a beautiful thing you are – they are –

so far gone from me yet within finger tip distance.

I could flip through your pages but I will never get the chance

to read your novel.

 

-CM

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Anxiety (Part II)

Before my feet even cross over the invisible line between real world and hospital

I have already convinced myself I am dying of ten different incurable diseases.

I have started my list of “things to do before I die”

starting with

  1. Stop stressing so damn much before there is even stress to stress about

I walk out of the doctors office with a prescription for an anxiety drug that will

“help me not worry so much” and the memory of a very tired doctor repeating that

I was not going to die any time soon.

But what if that truck swerves into my lane and hits me?

What if my car bursts into flames as soon as I shut the door?

What if today is my last day? –

I am not afraid of death or dying

specifically

I am afraid of everything.

-CM