Cancer Took Her Away.

I hate the phrase, "In a better place."
For me, there is no better place for my baby girl to be
than right by my side.
Words cannot describe how much I miss her.
I have suddenly realized why I'm so depressed.
Not just because my other half left me;
But also because she was the only one who loved me unconditionally and listened to everything I had to say, usually while rolling her eyes.

And now she's gone.

At times I thought I was her least favorite human.
But every night, she followed me to bed and put her paws up on the box-spring.
I would always help her up for fear that she'd hurt her back by herself.

Now I sleep alone.

I loved her more than the world,
and she loved me too.
She was always so healthy.
But Cancer preys on the strongest.
She was too young to die.
I could do nothing to stop her pain
but set her free.
That is the worst kind of love.

~April 21, 2011

Dear Skittles,

I love you, puppy-face. Watch over the pig until I come to get ya'll. Wait for me at the Rainbow Bridge. I'll be there one day to scratch behind your ears again and kiss you on your head. You'll always be number one in my heart. I hope you know that.

Love always,

Amy.

Angels.

An angel is a white curse;
Pure and terrible.
Innocence and naivety do not escape the wrath of God.
Seeing angels only traumatizes,
Yet you know that all you want is to see them.
Angels are proof.
Proof of life after death.
When you send your loved ones off to become them,
you know that's where they need to be.
Because there's always a reason,
even if it doesn't seem fair.
Your other half leaves you.
You had no choice,
but knowing that you were the one to ultimately send her away
is the worst kind of pain.
It's been nearly a month.
But you can't stop crying yet.
You will never be the same.

-April 17, 2011

Four Days After her Death.

I have many scars now.
So many things have changed in such a short time.
A few days. Not even a week.
So many things have happened.
Scratches and scars, scratches and scars.
Sacred scars.
They never left a bruise.
Skin that's never felt a wound
is now covered in welts.
This experience has made me tougher in the most painful way.
I'll move on, but I can never forget.
That's how these happenings mature us.
Memories and pictures, memories and pictures.
Faded pictures.
They leave an everlasting impact.
Like the pain that caused the scars.
My happy scars.

-March 28, 2011

A Rusty Poem from a Rusty Poet.

"The Greatest Illusion"

Soar high to feel the ocean
Dive deep to kiss the stars
Sing along with your merry dreams
Like you're paid in golden bars

Step backward to move forward
Close the box to see what's inside
Those joyous dreams you have
For nothing will they hide

Sing out loud to hum a tune
Leave here later to get there soon
Cars are parked but they move fast
Hopefully this illusion will last

~Amy Bohon, 12-13-2010
(This poem is also posted on Life After October)