The other day I told someone about you
what you left for me
what you left of me
their wet stone tone replied: I’m so sorry
and like a sprout through concrete
so instinct and automatically
I told them: don’t be.
I’m not.
Because
there are no words
for gifts this big
what you taught me
what you brought me
in our innocence like daisies
how your sacrifice had saved me
better than Christ himself
anyone can say
my lover
anyone can say
my partner
anyone can say
heartache
and break
and suffer.
But for me—I know it’s real.
Far beyond what children feel.
We learned what
passion was,
what freedom was,
what making love was
as if we were human
and nothing else
as if being human
was enough
and when you stopped
being human
the world didn’t notice
night fell
dawn broke
and how I tantrumed in contortions
in rebellion of this earth
to be so brash
betraying me
to keep turning, turning, turn.
And I learned that living takes effort
even just to breathe
and eat
and move
and speak
I wished my ribs would splinter
wished the cars would halt their noise
and every morning
I would touch myself
and pray I’d hear your voice
and the sensation
of forgetting
the way you sound and smell
was a wicked type of torture
—it’s own dynasty of hell.
You’re just as incomparable
as the pain you left behind
and how living was unbearable
and yet, somehow, I survived.
I couldn’t follow you
for the honor of our love
for the wittiness to the horrors
and all the pain that I had felt—
I needed it.
It’s my evidence, my proof.
I was a runner—not a warrior.
A deserter—not a soldier.
Yet, I learned trust
and kindness
bravery beyond—
birthed in ashes of despair
I bloomed into something else.
And that something is so pure
even moreso than our love.
Patient. Understanding.
I am gentle and I’m strong.
I am wise and I am generous.
All the things I didn’t have to be
until you were gone and out.
Wish you could see me now.
And what your death had brought me—
is so much more profound
than anybody’s life
and I know it’s strange to say,
but I’m not angry at you anymore.
I’m glad you got away.
Because I always have you,
and I’m more beautiful like this.
Overcoming losing you—
the most amazing thing I did.
And I don’t need your voice, or scent,
to remember how to love
out of all we learned together;
being human is enough.