Seven

It's been seven months. I have to remind myself to breathe. It's the space between the breath, where time stops and everything is still. You can actually feel the blood pulsating through your veins as your body wakes with silent tremors from the cascading tears silently flowing from your eyes. Seven months. How does my heart still beat after holding my breath for so many months. Surely, if they took a picture of my heart they would find a million pieces of brokeness. That's all I have left. It's hard to breathe. I have changed. Im not the same person I was seven months ago. The gale wind that blew my sails has died along with you my son. I am here. But I am not.