untitled [3/31/2014]

You sit in a coffee shop and it closes in 45 minutes.
Nothing feels right, even when your drink burns your
tongue, the feeling doesn’t seem right.
The cars are driving by, life is going on, and nothing can stop.
All of our lives will have to go on, and that’s a good thing.
That’s a wonderful thing.
He may be dead, but my god he’s not gone, never going
to be forgotten.
Still, nothing feels quite right.
My wrists don’t hurt the same way they did yesterday,
my head isn’t aching the same way it did before.
My drink doesn’t feel the same as it did before.
When you lose a person that way, things will always be off.
Picking up my clarinet is going to feel different, wetting my reed
won’t be the same.
Seeing someone holding a tenor is going to make my bone ache
and listening to jazz is going to smother my soul.

I am going to keep drinking my chai because it’s delicious, and I must enjoy.
I am going to keep going on because there is nothing else just that I could do.
I will still keep typing even though my wrists are hurting.
I will not sleep my day away even though my head is aching.
I will keep playing clarinet.
I will keep listening to jazz because, god damn it, it’s beautiful.


Copyright Terrah Short


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