Emotional Rescue

We stood there ticking.

We watched the sun turn

from yellow to orange to red.

She said,

“Well, I guess this is it.”

I took her hand and smiled.

We stood at the edge of the world.

I’d been there before so

I was fearless.

I’d been resurrected

two or three times already.

I was covered in scars and

they made me beautiful.

She thought she was flawless,

that thirty years of doors opening

and complimentary drinks

made her unaccountable.

She thought she was innocent but

she was wrong.

She was complicit.

She should have asked why but she didn’t.

She never dared to look down at the bodies.

She never looked out the window at night.

She chose to keep her eyes closed.

She was an accessory

to these crimes.

I was here to save her.

It was my duty.

I was her goddamn hero.

I grabbed her wrist and

pulled her screaming

into the sky.

Copyright Tim D.

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3 thoughts on “Emotional Rescue

  1. This is a really powerful piece, Tim. It speaks a lot to a sense of entitlement to me, that sense that rolls off the beautiful who take their beauty for granted and do not assume responsibility for the painful debris they leave in their wake or heartbreak. I really liked “I was covered in scars and they made me beautiful” and “She was complicit” and “She never dared to look down at the bodies.

    She never looked out the window at night.

    She chose to keep her eyes closed.

    She was an accessory

    to these crimes.”

    I love the writing; can’t say I like this bitch in the poem, though. I’ve just known too many of these types in my life and they make my skin crawl. You did a great job capturing the essence. Powerful good stuff!

    – Elaine –

    Like

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