Hold on

keeping me from finding you.

I'm standing on an edge,
the sea of lights and people swelling under the tips of my sneakers,
harsh winds nudging me as I teeter,
totter-
like one of those little playground toys we used to play on,
threatening to tear the scrap of paper out of my hand.

this paper,
frayed at the edges,
yellowed from sweaty plans crunching for too long,
suffocated between fleshy metacarpus
and bony fingers.

this paper,
a corner torn from a plain, 
generic notebook...
blue lines slashed across smooth white expanse,
hidden behind a marbled white and black cover-
it holds the one word that ended and begun my story...

Goodbye.

the last word ever written,
the only tangible cognizance of him left
the only way to remember his soft hair,
the way his mouth world quirk up when he smiled,
the sparkle in his eyes before he did something particularly stupid-
like the time he dumped jell-o on the principal,
or when he ran down the halls singing "let it go".

this paper that wanted so desperately to be free,
that trembled
fluttered against my loose grasp,
while I look down. 

the ground
hidden from my sight by a tide of heads,
waits,
beckons me like a promise,
a false gift of no pain,
of freedom from the burdens I must bear on earth.  

a deep breath,
and one foot suspends itself above open air,
just one shoe,
one red converse that he gave me a years ago..
on that special day-
that day he said "I love you."

The funny swooping feeling of joy kept in my stomach, 
as i remember how his calloused hands had held mine,
how he promised he would never leave me.

but that was a lie.

now he is above me, 
waiting,
watching me after the disease revenged him,
left him weak in my arms,
his soft hair falling out,
leaving an open expanse to remind us of everything wrong with us,
with life,
with this whole fucking world.

one tear,
two fall as I stand with one food stretched out in open space,
the other
cowardly sneaker-covered foot refusing to move from its perch,
refusing to move,
and get it over with.

But I guess Death is a sadistic bitch,
because it took my light,
my silver lining
and left me here,
stuck half-way in its arms,
half-way held back.

a shout resounds from below,
spiraling up through the vivacious rush hour to my ears,
and a man is looking up at me.

he stops, 
stands,
stares.
others push around him,
nearly shoving him over,
but then another comes to stand beside him.

He grabs the mans hand and follows his gaze
up,
up,
up
up
until his translucent eyes rest upon me in my ungainly pose-
half flying,
half statue.

the two eyes rest upon me,
watching silently as I drop tears like rain drops onto the rushing tides below,
soundlessly surveying as I waver on this small stone ledge,
so disproportionate to the feelings balancing upon it.

then,
finally taking in my bald skull,
where long blonde hair used to flow from,
rippling down my back in an unending sheet,
but now-
nothing.

I'm tempted to jump now,
before i think more about this, 
but then I look down into their eyes,
and I'm stuck.

I see this message,
this message they are sending up to the heavens and glowing around them in white light-
I'm not alone,
not the only minority.

Its that moment, 
that exact moment in time,
that I finally see it. 

I see the others stopped in the crowds, 
leaning out the windows of apartments to send me a message,
trying to tell me all along what these two have finally managed to convey-
I can make it.

my watery,
transparent eyes pick out other bare heads gazing up at me, 
other scorned couples holding hands, 
a sea of upturned faces,
beaten down
scarred
world wearied faces watching me with silent lips,
all with a message of love and bravery shining out of their eyes.

a sudden gust of wind rocks me,
almost causing me to finally go over 
into the warm and open arms of death,
but in the gaze of over a hundred men,
women,
children,
holding their berth for me,
I steady myself,
and in the light of over a hundred searing gazes,
I pull my foot out of open space,
and plant it firmly on the crumbling concrete edge.

my heart is so full of emotions raging,
storming within me as I tremble on the edge, 
before i finally step down-
to over a hundred sighs of relief,
twining through the noise and smog of this city,
echoing in my ears,
filling my frail body with peace for once in so long...
blessed peace.

with my back to the void, 
I look down at the scrap in my pale,
trembling hand.

Then,
with a cry
I raise my fist into the air,
punching the mist weathering around me
before letting the memory loose into the wind.

It hangs,
whitefish yellow,
frayed and ripped,
with a single beam of sunlight illuminating it for a moment

then its gone.

flying away on slier wings to heaven,
where he waits for me to come to him-
not today.

Stumbling down flights of stairs have never seemed better in my life,
everything seems new,
fresh,
as though I've never experienced it before.

and I guess I haven't,
not like this,
with so many emotions bubbling within me,
threatening to overflow.

When I push open the door to my former death point, 
the couple still stands there,
watching
waiting
two silent guardians,
saviors,
unequaled in stature, silence, and secrecy.

i reach them,
standing and watching each other for a moment,
paused-
then the one who had first seen me reaches forward
and pulls me into his embrace,
either ignoring,
or not caring
that my tears were dappling his shirt,
voiceless reminders of this moment.

it feels as though a lifetime has passed by the time we finally part,
ignoring the buffering of the crowd around us,
shoving into sides,
elbows digging into backs,
muttered remarks simulating around our heads,
forming our own crown of thorns.

And so the three of us stand,
wearing these crowns alone,
until another comes beside us,
then another
and another
and another,
until we block the side walk,
the road,
and street windows
and the muffled yells of protest begin to fall deaf around us.

We stand for hours upon hours,
even when our legs are on the point of collapse,
we still stand,
a silent group-
staring pain
sharing hope,
sharing stories of survival.