I always felt like I was on the verge
of losing you,
that I would forget the curve of your teeth
when you smile,
or the strength of your hands
propped up against my shoulders,
but that strength was never your own.
You just used it to see over my horizons.
You even said it yourself.
I was the one with broken fingers and spirits
that carried you through the shadows
of your valleys.
I was the one you stared at through salty eyes,
clutching your ribcage,
looking for your sister's heartbeat,
even though you could only find your own.
I was the one who laid next to you on the concrete,
starry-eyed and promise-drunk
looking up at the shooting souls
that tried to pass through
our atmosphere,
using the tails of their lives to better our own.
But I was the one who needed you
to make me better.
I was the one who wanted
your January weddings.
I was the one who was your orchard,
your baby girl, your butterfly,
little wanderer,
the fragile thing you were so afraid of losing,
of letting go,
but crushed in between anxious palms
and phone calls.
There are somethings that you'll never be able to let go of. This one is mine.