August 10, 2022.


On a long, winding road -
up on the top of Bradshaw mountain,
there's a wooden cross with chipped white paint
- just behind the guard rail

On it hangs noisy wind chimes,
fake flowers, and purple butterflies
A decade has went by, but I still hold my breath
- when I am forced to drive by it

I always imagine the day after it happened
- when we went to scope the scene
Enclosed by the warmth of my sister
as we tried to confront reality

My aunt told me that she did not feel any pain
- because the death was instant
but from the red stains that hadn't been wiped away
I had this funny feeling she wasn't being truthful

Many nights, I would have nightmares
- and imagine the worst of things
It got so out of hand that I began to lie to myself
and say she didn't die, she left me

It was an easier pill to swallow,
because there was still a chance
for her to show up in our driveway
and beg for forgiveness

Poetry by aidan haskel The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2022-08-10 at 15:39

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poem has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting on our poetry website!

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
First-class work!