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Literature by Khaimin

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Submitted on
April 15
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i.

He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service.  His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.

"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby."  It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.

ii.

It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
air out.
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before
because it's always in the before
he died.

And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.

Some people can't figure out why their son would
kill himself.

iii.

"Some men just want to watch the world burn?"
he replied to my question.

"You came to watch people die?"

"I came to watch myself die."

iv.

I never went to his house, even though he
had told me that one day, he wanted
to take me.
If he was not there, I would not go, I decided.

But, as I did the funeral, I walked by
his house on a windy fall day, when I saw his
father outside, raking the new falling leaves.
When I passed by, he looked up, and waved.

"Hello there," he called, grinning sadly at me.
"Are you doing okay today?"
I waved back and nodded at him, and he leaned
on his rake.

"Be careful," he said, then continued
his job.

And I know that it ran through his head that
some kids out there were unhappy,
and I guess he didn't want any kid that was
unhappy to end up like his.

It was hard not to cry on the way home.
It was like we had never even met.

v.

"You shouldn't do that, y'know," a voice
cut through the darkness that was
the forest I was in.  My eyes had adjusted but
not to him.
Because he was blacker than the night
around me, his soul did not hold the spark it would
soon in the future.
His brown eyes were so dark, so dark.

"Who the hell you think you are?"
My voice wavered, the shaking of my bones too
strong for my own good.
He shrugged, then walked towards the tracks,
sitting on his heels.

"All's I know is that it would hurt."
He turned back at me and grinned, flashing
his white teeth at me.

"You don't even know why I'm out here."

"Of course I do."

"How?"

"Because I came for the same reason."
His voice grew soft.  Then, he fell back onto
the ground, looking up at the stars.
"Do you think it'd be easier to die?"

I saw galaxies in his eyes that night.  His dark
hair falling around his face like some kind
of halo.  His clothes were dirty; a basketball jersey
and cargo shorts, but he had boat shoes
with no socks on.  He was a mess,
but so was I.

"Yes," I replied.

vi.

He was seventeen when he died.
He was too young.

He told me that he wanted to be someone
who changed the lives of others.
When our legs were tangled
underneath my sheets, he told me that
even if it was just his kids one day,
he wanted to change someone's life for the
better.

And no, I did not have the heart to tell him
that he had already changed mine.

vii.

On his gravestone is engraved,
"Then God said, "Let there be light";
and there was light."

viii.

"Whatever happened to that one guy?"

"Marcus?  He did what I couldn't do."

"What do you mean?"

"He saved me and then I couldn't save him."

ix.

To this day, when I go to visit him,
I can still see his blood splatters across the
train tracks.
a story told in nine parts about a boy i used to know that saved my life, and then three months later i could not save his

and to this day it still haunts me
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:icondoveangel8:
doveangel8 Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Life gives
It
Takes away
Leaves us laying on cold beds without them.

But we are here
We remain

To you I say, live the life he could not bare to live

DO all the things he dreamed
And someday

Someday find out who You are along the way
Reply
:icona-lovely-anxiety:
A-Lovely-Anxiety Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thank you
Reply
:icondoveangel8:
doveangel8 Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Your welcome.
Hug
Reply
:iconenigmaofinfinity:
EnigmaOfInfinity Featured By Owner Edited Sep 24, 2014  New member Hobbyist Writer
Dear Sister,

To enhance your own more beautiful world, one should focus much more on one's talents than on one's lacks.


In this case:
Don't drown yourself in the thing you couldn't do
 (and most likely you weren't even supposed to in the first place, as everybody else who couldn't/shouldn't),

but instead of that, embrace the fact that because of you, he turned out to be exactly that what he had always dreamt about and wanted to be. It's true.
 ( in his world it didn't matter what you or anybody else did or did not, no, the only thing that had a real meaning was saving another one's life,
and you let him save yours! )

In other words:
It's because of you that he could live up to his soulpurpose (in this life, and served it very well)
and for that, he will always be able to live on, through your thoughts & memories, by your feelings like Love & Gratefulness

Visit him in your heart.
Honour him, by living your life with Grace  <3


In any case:
You have an extraordinary talent for writing and expressing your emotions (maby partially due to this experience?) and you can really reach people and touch them intensely!
And I thank you both for that!


Furthermore:
The fact that you still are holding on, means you keep on growing strong, and can take on nearly anything life can possibly throw on your lawn  ;)


Okay, I'm done.
Take care of youself!


PS:
And btw it's okay to cry, for it is the most special & intense way of expressing one's feelings towards another  :)

Now I'm done!  :p
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:icona-lovely-anxiety:
A-Lovely-Anxiety Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thank you so, so, so very much.
Reply
:iconmatieucanadawilliams:
MatieuCanadaWilliams Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
grey heart bullet
You have an incredible way of expression. You don't have to condense everything into winding metaphors, leaving so many details raw.
Reply
:icona-lovely-anxiety:
A-Lovely-Anxiety Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thank you :heart:
Reply
:iconhaphazardmelody:
haphazardmelody Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I don't even know what to say. :heart: This is amazingly told.
Reply
:icona-lovely-anxiety:
A-Lovely-Anxiety Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thank you :heart:
Reply
:iconlady-yume:
Lady-Yume Featured By Owner Jun 4, 2014   Writer
... this seriously gave me goosebumps, and the fact that it has been written on personal experience amplified the amount...

Darling, this is a beautifully written piece of literature in line for a serious recognition. I can only add a bow out of respect :heart:
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