The Phantom Heart 3

Unable to look through the pain of his broken heart my father looked to the ground for comfort, mistaking the shattered pieces of me as points of light.  But he couldn’t face the light, not yet.  His shadow fades into the darkness as I close my eyes and begin my battle for rest.  I exist here oh so empty, a shell whose echo speaks a thousand words as the tide of the ocean carries away the pieces of my fathers broken heart, along with my dreams.  And their words, daggers into the heart of my own dreams, tearing away everything I ever thought I could be as I swallow their darkness and know no way out.       And the only one who reaches out for me, my long forgotten voice, once attached to my side, now swallowed in darkness.  The vision of me after it went away, standing on the edge of the beach, the cold Atlantic water comforting my feet, looking up to the sky seeing so many dreams just out of reach and the voice, always there, the voice that pushed my finger to dial the emergency button as they all continued laughing and taking from me and staring, taking all of the dreams that I thought I would never let go.  I lie on the bed in silence, the fluorescent lights a reminder every time I awoke that I still have not moved and a voice, that brought back so much pain, and I can’t focus on his face without the sun behind him, without the football helmet, he looked so vulnerable and as I looked into his eyes, he looked away but I felt what he thought-why are you doing this to me-and I thought maybe I should be thinking that, but I rose above that plateau and in my mind I opened my arms and I felt all of those dreams flowing through me and I knew then that their words didn’t matter, what happened to me happened and it was only because they were scared and I just didn’t know how to be scared.  And he asked me why I was doing this.  And he asked me if I could just let it go.  And he told me it just wasn’t that bad now was it?  I had no words, not until he could look at me, not until he could see that I am here, breathing, moving, and still living even though all of the life in me disappeared, superimposed by the mass hallucination of what I appeared to them, an object absorbing all they could not digest inside of themselves.  He touched my hand as it immediately tightened, and he spoke in a sweet quiet voice, you don’t really want to do this do you?  What about my life, can you think of me?  This could ruin everything I’ve worked for and after all it wasn’t so bad right?  And he took a bouquet of flowers behind his back and he said just think about it okay and don’t forget, this was your fault, don’t forget, you wanted this to happen.  I closed my eyes as he disappeared into the shadows.  And I looked upon the flowers he placed on the dresser beside me and I watched as they began to wrinkle and die and as the fading sunlight drew upon them in their last gasp of life, I watched a caterpillar crawling through the leaves, rising to the top of them and I closed my eyes and I learned how to rest and I learned how to forget the noise that continuously tried to prevent me from seeing its true form, and I listened to that forgotten voice in the distance and I knew there would always be a way out


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