This can't be real

This isn’t real.

This cannot be real.

This. Is. Not. Real.

Dirty handprints on the back door. All that’s left. Shattered world, never restored.

Baby in my arms who will never know. Brother whose memories more and more go.

The spinning, reeling, tilting world. The fear, the loneliness, the desperate twirl.

The lovers fighting to stay intertwined. The exhaustion, the hiding, the silence that binds.

The world moving forward. Time marches on. The normal the happy. I don’t belong.

The drowning the drought, fragile, fearful creep and crawl tossed and thrown by anything at all.

The memories that cannot escape my head, clamped to my heart heavy as lead.

Sadness, blackness drags me down. I failed. I failed just let me drown.

No one gets it, doesn’t it show? Death would be mercy. I can’t take the blows.

Doubts and questions all drenched in fear. No relief, not even in tears.

I MISS HIM! I WANT HIM! My heart wails. No such thing as justice scales.

My constant mourning appeal. This can’t be real.