12 Minutes
The nebulous They who rule the world tell me I cannot remember my birth. But when have you and I ever bothered to give heed to the word cannot?
I do remember.
Not in specifics. I do not recall the crush or color of the walls. Not the midwife's touch, not the pained shrieks of mother or contorted face of father.
But I do remember being deprived of you.
For 12 minutes you and I were trapped in separate worlds.
Those 12 minutes when the world was cold and pointless, a void.
Those 12 minutes we were incomplete.
I remember how I was forced from a sanctuary filled with unconditional love and companionship for a cruel emptiness. My first cry was a demand to know where you were. To know where the other piece of myself had gone.
Those 12 minutes are my own definition of purgatory.
12 minutes.
I could not abide a world without you for 12 minutes. Do you think I will tolerate a world without you for longer? They say you are dead and I cannot change that fact. I mourn for appearance sake, mourn at our separation.
This is merely another 12 minutes to endure. Another cannot I refuse to heed.
Soon, I will find a way to be complete.