Wherever You Are

Headaches. That knife point every time the clock's hands tick. And tick. And tick. My blue eyes turn to a bright green when I cry. It's a beautiful thing. A flower blooming in the after-math of a tornado. Knowing it went wrong, when it went wrong, that it was no one's fault but my own. Only, that's not true. I cared for it. Watered it. Fed it. Put it out in the bright sunshine. Gave it all my attention. All my care. All my love. Then, the storm of the century. Sitting at my dining room table. Listening to that deafening clock tick. And tick. And tick. Knowing what was on it's way. The clouds were forming. The sprinkles on the window. All it needed was a little push. Now everything I worked so hard for. Everything I wanted so badly. It's gone. But here it is. Blooming. Hope through all the heartache.