new stuff

Some people just deal with heart ache easier than others. We hold hands at the funeral. Everyone is dressed in black. How cliché. It’s her birthday. The day she was born is the exact day she will be buried. How sick, how cruel. I want to open that coffin and wake her. I want to tell her that I love(d) her. They throw dirt. I watch it fall on the top of it. She is gone. I loved her once. I guess this is final. Finalization is the end of everything perhaps.

 I remember us walking in the rain together at Barnegate Light. The sand heavy and gritty on our feet. The waves almost touching us. The rain was like big, salty kisses on our cheeks. It would not stop. We were in heaven then. Hand in hand, walking on the Thirteenth Street beach ready for the funeral. Feeling those drops sent from above soaked our mouths, our eyes, our hair, our everything.  We were in need. The salt air was the occasion. It attacked us with vigor and romance. We were enslaved by it all. We felt like the only people alive.

Some people deal with heart ache easier than others.

I want to open that coffin and wake her.

This is an excerpt from my new novel called GOLD. I am a writer. I am a nothing.