To Write Away the Hurt

I wrote four pieces today, two before and two after a very difficult phone call. I'll be posting them in order of my writing them.

Dead Air

The silence fills the room
with a choking sensation,
a toxic smog
impairing our views
of each other.
I try to breath
some life into the air,
but CPR can do nothing
for this corpse,
dead too long
for any means
of resuscitation.
If only it would
let us be
and dissipate,
perhaps bother
some other perishing souls,
yet how is one
to bury that which
you cannot touch?
Well, I'll find a way.
I'm unsure how,
but it's about time
this amorphous elephant
in the room
was herded back
to the dreadful zoo
it came from.
But the only way
I can do that
is if you hold the gate
open for me.
I pray you don't
instead choose
to chain it shut,
for I have no space
in my life for the dead,
as they have already
moved on with their lives.

Through the dust and smoke,
I reach for your hand.
Quick, take it,
before either of us
become lost
in the fog of time.