On Valentine's Day (Thursday, 2/14/13) there was a murder in my home. All I have to say is, it's almost like how it is in the movies. Only they don't tell you how truly terrifying the experience is, nor how anxious or scary it is to be surrounded by 'CAUTION' tape and police officers. While still in shock Friday morning when I had not slept, I found it is interesting how movies, books, or TV shows don't quite depict how long and time consuming crime scene homicide investigations are nor how intimidating and moderately scary it is to be questioned in a room by detectives. It is also hard to control your nervousness or answers so as to not turn into a babbling mess when being interviewed by them. To all of my longtime and wonderful PoetryPages friends, you'll most likely be seeing some poems from me sometime soon in regards to all that happened.
Essentially what happened is our housemate (I suppose I should say 'ex' housemate now) murdered her mother in our home in the room she was renting from us on Wednesday 2/13/13 night, but we didn't find the body or find out until Thursday 2/14/13 night. We had friends come over earlier that evening, and while Kitty (one of our friends) and I went out to get some things from the story I got a call from my bf that I needed to come home right now because L (the housemate) was missing and they'd found her mother's body. We were at the crime scene for nine hours (mostly in the cold, mind you but finally at 2am when it was freezing they let us all sit in my car to stay relatively warm) and were finally able to leave at 5am. But since we couldn't go home we had to go to one of a friend's place.
In his embrace you found yourself. In his kiss you were born. In his words you learned. In his heart you loved. In his absense you hurt.
