On Wednesday January 11th, my friend Carol Anne Stamper died in a car accident. My very close friend Ashely, was driving. My life will never be the same. After the incident, I wrote about it. Now I am ready to post this. I’ve tried to explain loosing a person to people, but the one word I always say is raw. Death is raw, and you don’t understand until it hits that close to home.
the crisp of fresh January gives me the metallic, regretful feeling
at the back of my throat.
I feel her wide eyes as she stops short
the empty expression forever plastered behind gut wrenching sheets
and I see her screams carved and scratched
into the unforgiving earth
I stand beside you numb and silent
agape and raw
you can feel my heart on the tips of my fingers.
as you writhe and struggle for her
and realize, I am there with you
gripped by the chilled hand of a bastardous reality
who dares steal from us
he is cruel,
teasing your insides, and tugging my windpipe.
it gives way and rips
and bleeds into itself,
my uneven tears sting what remains, after restless nights before
spent so painfully alone; that such fragile life cannot endure
and longing for true mourning and rebirth
that are truly not an option
the crisp of fresh morning gives me the metallic, regretful feeling
at the back of my throat, as I wake
the cracked salt on my cheeks and twisted blankets leave eyes swollen
and head sore
heavy with memories
I had never recalled until now
I no longer can appreciate things how they are
I want nothing
I only want the thing I am incapable of
I will never reach you
as I could before
The Black Parade in the sky
marches and plays for you
a tune of something you would like.
crushing charcoal beneith thier worn, gothic boots.
and here from below, the dead pine trees,
that easily sway in the wind;
creaking with age and exhaustion,
I tell you this;
I no longer smile at things;
they remind me of you.
and of your smile.
this endless verdigo
is too much for me now.
spinning on this cold, hard planet is no longer meaningful.
no matter how gentle a mockingbird may be
or how beautiful the song it sings
it is still only a mockingbird.
and is only capable of mere things
as it is only a mere creature.
I look up at the creamy blue sky
with no marbled clouds in sight
light headed and disoriented
I missed you
that rainy Wednesday afternoon
the gloom and fog suffocating us all
I had no idea what I had
until it wasn’t there next to me
even if it was numb to begin with
even if you were numb to begin with
even if I was numb to begin with
I miss you
This was a traumatizing event in my life.
You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
I can’t stress how true this is.
I hope that people cherish the time they have on this planet and feel alive with those they love. Feel the breeze before it’s passed. And please, Remember to Love…
Rest in Peace, Beautiful Carol
5/10/96 – 1/11/12