Reaching Out

I reach out with my hands
out and out,
but all I feel is cold rain
numbing my arms.

If I reach farther
I will fall
faster than the rain--
making no mistakes in

There is nowhere else to go.

I can't close my eyes
to ignore
the empty space before me.

I must face my truth
every morning
without even a cup of coffee,
without someone to tell me
I will not die alone.

I cannot feel my hands anymore--
if another hand were to reach
for mine
I don't believe
I would be able to feel it.