The Stars Are Not Wanted.

W.H Auden wrote,

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

In what has been my favorite poem for as long as I can recall, I hardly breathe whenever I read it's wounded sentences, granted I have memorized each letter.   I find it haunting in its beauty.  It's raw unraveling of loss.  The permanency of love. 

I looked at my phone, I read the words.. and as I did my hands shook, every word a bullet.

And then I woke up, my eyes alert to every detail as if sleep had not been my companion for the last 5 hours.  I watched the fan on my bedroom ceiling, frozen in it's place for winter, the moon its only light..  And I thought to myself..

This is real?

Yesterday happened?

The sensation of a hole being burned through my stomach, unrelenting.

The reality of yesterday creeping through to today.

I lay awake, feeling the danger in dreaming.

Oh, but reality is just as unkind.

Tomorrow.

All I longed for was tomorrow.

Perhaps not this tomorrow.

The tomorrow where it's easier.

The tomorrow where yesterday feels forgotten.

Breathing is easier today.

Perhaps this is the tomorrow I prayed for.

"I want to know, do I stay or do I go?

And maybe try another time.

And do I really have a hand in my forgetting?"

(uh, ignore the scary doll if you're watching the video, just listen.)