Once upon a time I told you everything. Everything that made me laugh or made me mad or made me cry. And, you were there with your bright eyes and you would smile and everything would be all right.
But, you say that we did it all wrong. That I didn’t listen or respond to your heart when I would never choose to do that if I had a choice.
You said I left you on your own forever until you thought you were going crazy when nameless things I never knew held me back.
When were you happy?
When were we happy?
I laid my head on your chest and would listen to your heart beating under my ear and I knew it’s sound better than my own. The way you’d pull me to you when you were more than half asleep. And, though I don’t believe in god if I did I’d find him there . What did that all mean?
You always waited for my hand to fit inside of yours. On the last night, that I didn’t know was the last night, we talked about music and you did the same thing. And was that real? Was any of it? How long was it just a habit or a reflex?
Looking back, it all feels tarnished. Every smile and every whisper and every kiss dropped on my forehead. Did you love me in that moment? Did you ever?
When I imagine you, we are together like we were on the couch that one day and your forehead is pressed against mine and I’m breathing you in as you breathe me out.
And now I’m left with love and memories tangled up like yarn and trying to make heads and tails of odds and ends. And people keep reminding me that I know what grief is because I wrote those words that I thought made you proud.
And the hollow ache in my chest is shaped like you.