I’ve yet to identify “this”;
whatever has taken over.
It’s officially set up shop.
Where the profound grief was held,
held for far too long.
Debilitating,
Consuming;
Grief. the heinous kind that makes you frail and weak.
It was assumed I was Seemingly broken beyond repair.
The other day at half-past four.
The frail was gracious enough to take the subtle hints, and leave on its own fruition.
The weak, was eventually knocked out cold.
Broken is no longer synonymous with my surname.
This feeling has been quiet.
My whole life, the maddening and unfamiliar burn.
At Half-past four I Feel crazy, certifiable.
Without direction.
I was blessed when it finally got me and consumed the holes left by the aforementioned weak and frail.
I think the last time I felt the wind get knocked from my lungs.
It arrived.
I couldn’t place it.
One day on seemingly regular torture filled afternoon.
Like groundhogs day
At Half-past four
Grief does it’s drive-by, blindsides me.
Every single day.
All-day I’m unhappy.
White knuckling life.
I’ve been Pretending rigged up in my puppet shows finest costume acting like I know what Normative behavior is/was.
Sometimes I’m so good I’m almost nominated for best actress in a stomach-churning never-ending made for TV movie.
But nevertheless, half past four comes.
At half-past four,
My puppet show is a flop.
The Marquee crudely graffitied with bad words and heinous reviews.
I guess normative isn’t something I’m great at.
At Half-past four.
My insides graciously give way.
Nothing holding or forcing me upright. The lights are out the curtains have long had their final call.
My fear was finally trumped by fortitude
at Half-past four.
I demanded an explanation
“I feel like I should hate you,
I really want to. But now I’m
hoping you’d stay and chat.
Explain yourself.
Why’d you come again today?”
Half-past four speaks for the first time.
Vocal cords no longer severed.
Half-past four properly introduces herself.
“I’m your rage, your crazy your feelings and truths you’ve shoved down.
I’m Half-past four.
I’ve been here waiting,
It’s long past time,
Joslynn,
your final step starts here.
the battles are over, time to finish the war.”