The sound of the rushing water reminded me of falling, it
wasn’t as peaceful as they had said.
An event is just a memory once it is over
and even after everything settles and you’re standing in the same place reality
fails to intervene. I guess it’s our mind, we’ll have the few odd tears but
they won’t burn our cheeks like they did on that day. The taste of sick at the
back of our throat will return only when we scream loud enough or witness
something worse, which may be never again.
The scent of the air has returned to
normal, the melted glass was cleared from the sidewalk long ago but their ashes
remain. Small specks of their blood that rained on the buildings are still there
even if we can’t see them, and we walk through. My heart is coated with a breath
of silence to never say what we felt that night, to wake up in a world like
this the next morning; I’ve lived in a dream since that flight.
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