Lily Are You Scared?

Your name was Lily,

and everyone who knew you knew

that the moment you entered a room

it was like everyone started to choke

on the enormous elephant,

your small stature created.

We all had to fill our throats with noise

to tame ourselves from asking the question.

We choked down our own syllables

and spoke the code of small talk,

while you walked as if you didn’t notice.

Your baldness gleams like a light house,

and we lonely ships scurry away

from the sharp rocks that jut out

like your bones,

which stand out like symbols in brail

even beneath your clothes.

Even the blind people know

you are sick.

Where you stepped,

ripples broke out and we too took a step back

as if we could be infected by you.

The moment you left

we became doctors,

donning our lab coats

we tried to analyze your illness

we burst into conversation

of what possibly could be wrong with you.

Still, unable to ask the question

we were all dying to know the answer to:

“Lily, are you scared?”

Because you hold your chin a little higher than the rest of us,

as though you’ve figured out this whole death thing

you breach each tidal wave of a hospital visit

with a constant braveness that goes to say

you didn’t just appear here.

You had to earn every day, every breath

you’ve fought like a dog for your life and it’s not much,

it’s all bone with no meat,

but it’s enough.

And us, draped in our health like designer brands,

we cower in fear,

we’re terrified of a little stick-skinned girl

who stands taller than all of us.

We are like the rich who have achieved everything

and still cannot capture the glint in the eye

of a homeless man as he pockets a dime.

And we just want to ask

“Lily, are you scared?”

but we can’t.

Our social skills tell us no.

“Lily, are you scared?”

You will never have children.

You will never have a career.

You will never get married.

You’re like a ticking time bomb set to zero

and we are all just holding our breath

for you to explode.

But you don’t.

Instead you greet each day with a smile,

and every stare you return with a wink.

You are like that warm little center of the world

we all crowd around,

you are like our Jesus,

if we could just touch you and find out your secret,

we too would be healed.

You remind us that though you will never find a partner,

you are loved.

You teach us that living

has less to do with a final outcome

and more with how you spend the minutes

you already have.

“Lily, are you scared?”

Because you are ten years old,

and your life is half over.

You’re like a flower planted in a bed so shallow

it cannot grow,

we watch you wilt and wither,

any amount of help we can give you

amounts to nothing,

to the point where we don’t know if we are trying to fix you,

or if we are just filling up empty hours

so in the event of your death

when we look at each other

beneath black umbrellas,

at least we can say

we tried.

 Lily, are you scared?

You used to say, when people asked,

how you got your name

that your parents wanted to name you Tiger,

and found the next best thing.

You said that though your name is Lily

tiger comes first, and for you,

your life is not a tragedy

but a miracle,

as if every time the sun set we never knew if it would come back up again.

You said your fear was only the underscore

to your symphony of success.

You said the difference is

we are all afraid of dying

but you are the only one

who is not afraid to live.

roy14:

Honesty is a lie

Because while one side reveals it innermost thoughts

The recipient sees it as a lie, who then is truthful?

If you tell someone they’re beautiful and they deny it, who in fact is correct?

Honesty is a policy best followed by those trustworthy enough

Everyone holds their own truth, an opinion

Honesty is indeed detrimental to any relationship, because a house built on lies will crumble

Honesty is truly the best policy

Apparently Forever was too long for her

It was… something about her smile

The way the creases in her cheeks reminded me

That God must have been somewhere smiling at us from a distance

Her eyes

Were once lit like the midnight sky during an evening of fireworks

Something similar to a painted canvas

A splash of beauty being portrayed in the

Mixed shades of black and brown found dwelling in her irises

that somehow captured a tiny glimpse of heaven

behind the backs of her eyelids

It was the way her first name

looked so good next to my last

And the way time seemed to pass…

As if nobody else noticed the sun rise when she laughed

Her touch…

Her touch was a double-edged blade that could

That could pierce deep enough through flesh until bones started shattering

Until rib cage and knees caps began collapsing

And the thought of falling in love

Sounded too cliché to confess at the moment

But I remember the first time I’ve ever felt the earth stand

Completely still

It happened the day she first told me that she loved me

We walked on the edges of our regrets

Flirted with temptation

[I thought you were better than that]

we

Stared at one another like we were looking into a reflection

of all the things we’ve learned to hate about ourselves

like…

we couldn’t stand looking at what was in front of us

for another second longer

Still young then,

And ignorant,

We told the sun to mind its own business

We thought we could travel through the darkness with just a pinky promise

And a couple of crossed fingers

Our shadows

Became the only ones willing to carry the bones buried in our closets

Our secrets

Were never really secrets…

More like a handful of lies disguised as first impressions

Pressed to the parts of our hearts that have

Learned to sympathize with our imperfections

We

purposely forgot about our flaws thinking that they would NEVER catch up to us…

Just because we thought we were happy

didn’t mean we were…

Just because I thought she was in love

Didn’t mean she was

The first time she told me

That she didn’t love me that way

I swear I could feel the earth growing cold,

Both naked and exposed like the truth we found changing

in our dressing room of a conversation

and that must have been the second time

that I’ve felt the earth stand

Completely still

Apparently forever became too long for her

She was in it for the moments of “right now”

For the “tomorrow morning”s

Never fully satisfied

I guess the same routine gets boring

She said

I’m not telling people the whole story,

But baby girl,

What exactly have I been leaving out?

When it comes down to it…

it wasn’t about something that I said or did

But it was…

whatever it was…

that I wasn’t doing

which justified why she felt the need to leave

Never really knowing who

Or

What she was yet

She set distance between us so she could have a little more time to find herself

And, well, that was as far as she cared to carry this story

Thinking of her

Reminds me of what happiness feels like at 3 o clock in the morning

When only silence remains

and the earth is all worn out from throwing its tantrums

And somewhere in between that split second

I am able to forget her long enough to fall asleep

I am only two-thirds sorry that she hates me

And the rest of me…

The rest of me knows more about the truth

than what my heart is willing to believe

Still, I keep thinking maybe I should have tried harder

Maybe

There was something else I could have done

Then again,

When did relationships ever become that complicated

What’s a love story without its happy ending, right?

I guess now we don’t get to call it that anymore

I guess now we get to call it

the ending

of something that could have been great

we call it

the beginning of something even greater

we call it—life doing the both of us a favor

another lesson learned

perhaps another mistake

potential energy we turned to waste

and it was something

about her smile

it was something

about the way the stars aligned in late August that year

How the universe sent us a message that said our love belonged burning outside of Earth’s atmosphere…

They never mentioned time would send us crashing

And I wish someone would have warned me

that every day that she’s gone would be like this…

every day is new reminder of an old memory

and now everything’s been left

…motionless