Silence is not spoken here...
It is everything I remember and everything I miss. It is everything from riding on his downbound train, to the constant craving that keeps her awake at night.
It is lying under the bridge with my sister and listening to Jeremy's heartache.
It is the touch of the invisible breeze that stole the hold on my heart on that spring morning in 1990, while it left me paralyzed in thought of life with no wordly possessions.
From the moment her voice calmed my fears with I wish I was your lover to exhaling her last breath, in reassurance of never again having to revisit the sting of living just another day without him....
It will always begin in hope of the deliverance to free my six-year-old soul, and end with the undying echos of her knocking on heaven's door.
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