sour candy sore body

i wish i could tell people how hard it is to function some days.
just above my left breast a hole gapes and creates a draft that chills me to my fingers.
i know the grief i've caused so many people.
the scars march in my eyes all day.
my brother's voice, my baby's hands.
every time i see my old city, i see the faces of the people who put their hands in my wounds, body, and heart and pulled. my breath is ragged there, my hands shake worse than usual. and dawnelle says i have to see my parents. she says i have to. but honestly i can't. please. it's hard to look into my mother's face, to see her sadness and light insanity. post traumatic, we both know suffering, but she lingers there. dad is the quiet support but my mother. she says the baby's name over and over and i hate it. i can't hear it. and i want to scream. but i don't. i eat and play with kittens. i plan my escape and i eventually hug them goodbye. as soon as i pull out of the driveway i'm sobbing. wretching. just a normal family visit, ya know.
things still hurt so much. idiot me, i always think it'll be different. and sure, i love seeing dawnelle and matthew, remnants of the tiny group i used to know. sure, i love the hidden gems like mittman's and the wizard. but i get that sticky feeling.
the strain of falling blindly and destructively through the most important years of my life.
the whole time i just wanted to get back to him.
yea. that strange yet familiar man with the soft angry cloud around his head lately. swatting at pesky thoughts and sometimes me as i hover around him and attempt to gauge how he feels at the moment.

because i can help now.
even with that chill.