The Moment of Attack

I watched her head fall slack.
As I sat there with gravel digging into my knees,
My arms growing tired with the growing weight of her body,
All I wanted to do was wheeze.
I didn’t care about the strength of the breeze.
I didn’t care if I would freeze.
All I could do was feel her skin beneath mine and squeeze,
And whisper, scream, say, shout, “Please—”

And her eyes roll back.
Somewhere deep inside my head,
I wondered if she was seeing a black abyss or a small, white door.
Would death be the color of her blood on my hands, deep red?
But my consciousness couldn’t think ahead.
There was a strong weight in my stomach, like lead.
She was now, and forever would be, dead.
And I knew I was only hanging on by a thread.

I watched the time turn back.
But they weren’t happy thoughts of glorious days.
I saw her smile, but now it’s tainted with blood on her teeth.
I remembered her dark, brown eyes that were sprinkled with the gold of sun rays,
But I could now only see the film of a hollow glaze.
She was wearing a snowflake necklace to celebrate the holidays,
Forever in my thoughts to mourn on sundays.
And now, all I could do was just gaze—

I felt my mind attack.
I felt my body react.
It practically seized with her body in my blood-drenched arms.
I think it was trying to revolt, to counteract,
Like it could reverse these last, loaded moments and backtrack.
I would’ve paid any amount, signed any contract,
Just to have her death not be fact.
But like is not that abstract.

I felt this moment like a smack.
I could see it in the reflection of her eyes
As they lost that small twinkle of recognition,
But I still wasn’t ready to lose that addition.
Her life never got to grow to fruition.
This will always be remembered as a transition.
From then on a life without definition,
One of malnutrition,
Of intermission.
This is the moment of a nuclear fission.