"Dear Julia"

A Poem by PoeT4994

True story about a close friend I have.

"Dear Julia"
This...is to the girl that shouts help me to deaf ears, I read your lips.
So shout silent sentences whenever you want to, because I will always be here to read about your pain.
I will caress your lips so I can feel the power in your voice.
Her name, is misery.
What's it like to cry out of forced depression?
See, her mother wasn't really a mother, she just carried this soul.
Crack consuming her all of nine months created a mental damage that only 30,000 to 50,000 each year can relate to.
And from this, crying spells.
See, all too often her tears run down creating a river so she can drowned herself and get away.
At five years of age she's thrown to adoption, only for her dad to catch her.
Well she got away from her mom, that's good, right?
But her lips bleed more of this story into my hands, and her heart, is pumping sorrow.
A mother of marriage plants mental seeds in her dad which leads to bruises for eight years too long...she can't her family.
She needs someone to talk to but her pain can't transfer to the phone on the other side of the plexi-glass where her mother sits.
Selling drugs on school property, prostitution, and a child absent of funds leads to a sentence behind barred hearts.
She can't let anybody in.
So closed doors lead to open veigns sliced and slit, bleeding into her river.
Attepted O.D's thanks to resented O.P.'s leaves her as dead as she wants to be.
She's clinically insane and can't remain in society.
So when she stretches, they grip and rip her into restraints.
Now she walks around even more like a zombie.
Two seperate guys seperated her thighs and she bleed and cried on two more nights.
Except this time, she screamed S.O.S's from lips of another kind.
She whispers a four letter word into my hands that sends shivers into my spine.
And now, the closest she's had to a mother, is diagnosed with cancer.
Her smile, found at last, was torn from her face, so even to me, she can't tell her stories.
As my finger tips wonder the place where her mouth used to be she touches my hand with hers.
And upon caressing the lines in her palms, I find they end at her elbow.
See, she died long before she was born.
And into these lost palms I sign, it's ok.
Your heart is in a wheelchair, but allow me to be in your left, God in your right, and stand on your hands.
And that's when she says, "Look, the reason me and you can't be together, is because everytime I say I love you, they fade away."
But you don't understand, I, i'll never make a full of ya, Dear Julia.
And heaven heard the force of my fingers breaking and bruising from the force of her heavy heart beating into my hand, and tonight, angels cry.