9: or Daisy

Daisy, she was a sinking ship. I remember when she jumped out of my 2nd story window. Little miss Daisy. We went to school together for as long as I can remember, but the only thing she learned was how to fall, such a difficult girl, always pressed against the wall. She hated labels pasted on her clothes sometimes using her teeth to tear the tags off. No one ever told me she’d be such a heartbreak, she’d leave such a bad taste. Daisy, she was a sinking ship that I could've saved.

I seen Daisy last month, she was sleeping in bus shelter down by the expressway. All dressed up in the latest fashions, ripped and torn, sporting nicotine stains on her finger tips. With her hood pulled tight she folded her body in half and nestled on that little wooden bench. Empty bottles and discarded fast food wrappers strewed along the ground, clearly she’s made camp here for some time.

Daisy, she’s been a sinking stone since I could remember. Always a bright girl but always ashamed, always changing but never the same. It’s been nearly two weeks now since I saw her last , sleeping so pitifully, hiding behind the glass. All she’s ever needed was somebody to lean on, all she’s ever needed was a clear mind. Maybe next time I'll stop, maybe next time I’ll offer her a ride?

Driving one night I pulled alongside the bus stop and scanned the grounds, my little miss Daisy is no where to be found. There was something about that ride, seeing that place from where once she slept. The thought of spending one night out of the comfort of my home sent a shiver through my chest. I often wondered how I would react if she came to my door step.

It’s been a few days and the snow is blowing cold, making even the most mundane errands feel like journeys into the unknown. I was running low on the necessities in life, but something told me not to go. I didn’t need to have a drink, I didn’t need to leave my home.

It’s January and I can see my breath, exhaling, my lungs quiver from the cold. It’s been snowing again and there’s ice on the road. Maybe I shouldn’t had that last quart, maybe I should’ve stayed home. I’ve been drinking heavier, I’ve been getting stoned, I’ve been trying to fight the guilt slowing consuming my soul. It’s getting late and my heater is fading again, fogging up my windows. I pray for a red light so I may wipe the condensation from my windshield.

As I pulled along the curb and hastily begun to park, an unsettling feeling fell across my heart. I stepped out of my car, placing both feet on the ground. I make my way to the doorstep carefully minding the snow falling hard and collecting in piles. I slip my key out of my pocket and search for the keyhole, but something catches my eye in the bitter cold.

A body nesting calmly in the bushes outside my home. A form so familiar, one that I’d surely know. Startled, with panic rising, I'd already know, there’s Daisy laying on the ground dead in the cold. Her lifeless body slumped up against the bushes, all the tags torn from her clothes. Daisy, she was a sinking ship, Daisy, I shouldn’t have left my home.