For S.

Life is having meals in silence with your fears until you pull out the chair for them. Open up to them. Love them as you love your own children.

You always spoke to me confidently. A lovely yet wicked tongue. Why can’t you do the same with strangers you’re scared of? Ones you’ve never met and will never know.

Be honest. You loved me as equally as you despised me. As soon as I picked up the bottle, I knew you’d sleep in the other room. If there’s distance, then you won’t absorb my dementedness.

I used to pull your legs apart to heal my trauma. For you to be my silver lining. Look where I led myself. A new addiction. A new obsession. There’s no hiding. Half the city sees my wounds.

Play me the world’s smallest violin. Tell me I’m my only enemy. This I know. Yet I continue. The absence of you has aged me.

I’ve changed jobs. Bought new ties. Began cooking. An elderly woman down the street came over to teach me to bake. She told me the only ingredient we need is love.

I love you. I didn’t say this enough to you. Your hand places itself on my shoulder in every room of the home. An invisible touch to save me. But what will I do when even this is gone?

The rain kisses the pine trees. I watch from my window. This feeling makes me miss what I don’t have. I can see you running with our children, clothes soaked, until you reach me.

We’ll have bitter coffee by the fireplace. They’ll put together a puzzle. I’ll share my blanket with you, and you’ll sink into me. This, I will take for granted.

Time has been as unkind as I have. I’ve apologized. I’ve collected ashes to rebuild the bridge. But you’re not here. The kids are gone. The future I’m grieving is one I used to chase.

I escape. I disappear into forests I can’t name to make amends. You’ve never seen me cry, but I have. I do. There isn’t enough space between my lungs to strangle my grief.

This beauty. This intricacy. This devastation. All of this just to close your eyes one final time as you create a new dream. Death will arrive before we become fluent in love.

I will avoid invading myself. To offer the same fondness you gave. I will fail so often. So unavoidably and purposely. But I will try. Maybe one day it won’t be only for all of you, but for me.