I had laid a notebook
Cleanly on my desk, straight,
Organized pages still
Drying from black ink, the
Words needed most facing out.

It was words saying goodbye,
With my remaining signature.
I remember that day like
It was a nightmare,
Every single moment burned
Into my subconscious.

The world was heavy,
But not like weights,
More of the way it
Disappeared. The memories
Laid on my mind with the
Ache of distance and regret.

I decided to leave it
Quietly.
Alone.
Not a word spoken,
But letters left to explain.
My silence would be
Enough.

Then came the knocking.
Hard.
Alive.
Sharp.

Again.
And again.
Over.
And over.

His voice cracked
Between the beat of
His fist and the wood.
“Please, just open the door.”

When I did
He was already crying.
His hands,
Shaking uncontrollably,
Wrapped my against his chest,
Begging us both to be still.

It was like he had felt it.
The pain, the heartache,
Preemptively.
Like the world told him to run
Before I was gone.

He didn’t ask how I was
Or offer comfort or a distraction.
He just looked at me
His face painted in a pained manner.
A look I can never forget.

His voice was almost whispering,
Shaking.
“What were you about to do?”

For the first time
In years
I felt.
And I felt it all.
All the shame and love and pain.

I couldn’t will my voice to
Produce an answer,
Just tears. And the
Way he held me
Like I was still here,
Like I should stay.

He simply stayed on the floor,
Golding me for hours
Like that night wasn’t something
For us to erase,
But something
To survive.

And I did.
Because he just knew
To ask the question
No one else knew to ask.

He knocked like
His life depended on it.
Like my life
Depended on it.
All because he just
Knew.