I miss you
you don't know how much*
the rest is incohorent, he keeps
saying sorry, over and over.
I guess I understand why, now.
the apologies, the childlike way
he'd turn and burrow into my
shoulder--something he'd
hardly done before
maybe I didn't understand
the reasoning behind the things
he would have liked, but the pain
was always so palpable
a heavy ache, a lonesome ache--
I hope all the blackest things
are the farthest from you,
and that you recede from
the places that only bring
temporary comfort,
i hope that you heal,
that all the ways you
have frozen over will
thaw, not a bitter thing
to be found,
i hope that the bees
find you sweet, Matt
because you are and I did,
you are not a body of
the things people have said
breathe, in and out
in and out.
with me,
in and out.
(c) Brooke Otto 2017
started this back in june. finished today.
if you still read, at all. I want the best for you.