That Last Memory

November 14, 2009
I remember the night you told me everything would be alright.
I remember seeing smoke rise from the car we sat in. I reached up to my face and felt blood leaking above my left eyebrow.
From below my lip.
Along my jaw.
Coming from my nose.
I felt my heavy eyelids closing.
But I heard you speak.
You said,
“it’ll be alright Katy,” you looked at me with blood streaming from your forehead.
“Just-just don’t close your eyes.”
I wanted to please you so badly.
I watched the traffic light finally turn green from red as we sat in the intersection.
I could hear faint sirens cover my loud beating heart.
Slowly they grew louder.
I heard you cough and you reached for my hand.
“Don’t worry Katy,”
You said,
“It’ll be alright.”
I remember seeing someone at my cracked window.
“Ma’am?” they said shinning a bright light in my face.
You coughed some more.
They ripped of my door and pulled me out.
You said,
“Don’t worry,”
But I did worry.
I worried for you.
I remember looking back at your totaled car with you inside.
I remember seeing you gripping your leg.
Your jeans were soaked with blood.
And it was ripped by the knee.
Even with my eyes slowly closing, I swore I saw something jammed into it.
I wanted to run over to you.
To hold your hand again.
And tell you everything would be alright.
But I’m strapped to the stretcher with blood running into my eye.
I blinked to keep it out.
But it was a bad idea.
I broke my promise to you in a blink of an eye.
Just before my eyes shut,
I got my last look,
At you.

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serendipitous615 said...
Dec. 8, 2009 at 5:48 am
Interestingly sad, a real heart grabber.
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