February 26, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Barry Stock photo



Mirissa D. Price




You had the beginning of something in your hands



You had the beginning of something in your hands

felt the cool warmth of its body, the texture as real as

the drop of fresh blood on your palm. It was almost

rapid-fire enough.


It was almost, and then it wasn’t.


You haven’t slept in days, the ‘what ifs’

Keeping you up. What if somebody listened; what if

somebody helped. What if

blood were an amorphous shape you could hold.


Maybe your grip would have been something

that mattered

before their lives, your hope slipped away.


But what hurts the most is not even

the loss; it’s the memory

that once, you were in that same place. Once,

you did everything they didn’t do

and lived. And you want it all to mean something.


Though not every bullet has a purpose.

Just a point, that almost landed

and a movement that almost

worked. Like every relationship you almost had

that never happened.


You never look back at almost love

and say, ‘It failed.’ You just

begrudgingly let go.


And all that remains is a shadow

of almost – the worst kind of loss, leaving you

nothing to hold. Your arms craving

the curve of a second chance. Your heart craving

the whisper of support:


You are entitled to care. You are entitled to

try. You are entitled to

call it a heartbeat,

no matter how fleeting the results. You are entitled

to yell back at the law,

your friend’s blood

almost smeared

on a bald eagle’s claws.


You are entitled to help everyone

almost remember:

It was real. And most of all,

you still matter






Mirissa D. Price

Mirissa D. Price is a 2019 DMD Candidate at Harvard School of Dental Medicine and future pediatric dentist. As a child, doctors told Mirissa that she would live in a nursing home, confined to a wheelchair, crippled by pain. Instead, Mirissa uses her medical experiences to inspire others, living each day with a passion to spread pain-free smiles through her dental work, writing, improv comedy performances, and nonprofit work with children. Her writing fills the pages of Yellow Chair Review, Tuck Magazine, The Huffington Post, Five2One Magazine, and more. You can stay up to date with Mirissa’s writing at mirissaprice.wordpress.com and follow @Mirissa_D_Price on Twitter or Facebook. You can even take home a few inspirations of your own, at Mirissa’s Etsy shop, A Smile Blooms.

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