The Doorway

before and after

Eating food because I know I must.
But all I want to do
is throw the plate against the wall.

I’m arguing with myself —
I would have changed everything,
I would have changed nothing.
I want to do what is right,
I want to reject reality.

And I can’t bring myself to tell anyone.
I’m not ready for their pity,
I can’t face the look in their eyes,
I can’t perform grief for them.

My brain is standing in the doorway
between those two moments
before and after —
asking how they can belong to the same day.

I look at his bed, his toys
remember that impish look in his eyes,
and in my heart I know —
they belong to another time.

I argue with myself again —
I would have changed everything.
I would have changed nothing.

I stand in the doorway 
And stare at the old life.

Barely breathing —
Unable to move.