Stroke
The chill in the air penetrates through me.I hold myself taut.But it only sinks deeper.
I am not able...I am not able to hold it off. It grips me.I am going down.all the things I should have done,All the times I should have called.Should have visited.
I cannot fix this.
And I am terrified.
Who thought to give such a gentle name, to something so cruel and so harsh.
a word which conjures up soothing textures and delicate handed touch.
She must be ok.
I am not ready to lose her.
I hope she knows how important she is to me.
She needs to know.
I am not able...I am not able to hold it off. It grips me.I am going down.all the things I should have done,All the times I should have called.Should have visited.
I cannot fix this.
And I am terrified.
Who thought to give such a gentle name, to something so cruel and so harsh.
a word which conjures up soothing textures and delicate handed touch.
She must be ok.
I am not ready to lose her.
I hope she knows how important she is to me.
She needs to know.
What a sad poem, beautifully written
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