"I’ll drive"
Just one more time
your car engine humming, country music low.
The world idling.
My head in your lap.
Your arms wrapped around me as protective as a seatbelt.
The world finally still enough to breathe.
"I won’t hang up"
You were on the line that night
hospital light,
fluorescent and white.
"High-risk" a warning label no one wanted to read,
too bitter for the tongue to speak.
My voice fading in and out of sight,
a signal losing its fight.
You stayed
steady as a dial tone
"I will always be here for you"
Just one more time
your blue eyes close enough
I don’t need a lens,
no viewfinder,
no distance to define us.
"I won’t let anything happen to you"
You told my mom everything,
because I couldn’t.
You watched over me,
when I didn’t know I needed watching.
Standing at a door
I didn’t know was open.
"I’m here"
Just one more time
Hearing gravel shift
when you pull in,
like the earth saying
stay.
it gets better.
Lying on the couch with a movie in the background,
voices flickering, no attention to them.
Reaching for you, no effort needed,
like gravity and fate intertwining us.
"I will keep you safe"
I don’t want you to ever again
feel responsible for saving me.
Counting miles between us
like heartbeats in the dark,
every mile another mark,
another spark
going out.
"I love your family"
Just one more time
Dinner with my family.
Plates clinking softly.
Rubbing your back when you’re sick,
slow circles, rhythmic.
Laughing with my brother,
as if you’d always been there
as if you were stitched in.
"I won’t disappear"
You always stayed
right up to the moment
I thought you might disappear,
"It gets better"
Just one more time
Your fingers threaded through mine,
everything quiet, aligned,
the world small enough
to fit inside a single line.
"You can fall asleep on call with me if you need"
I don’t want to own your dreams.
I know you’re always in mine,
moving through them like headlights on a dark road.
I don’t want you
to become just a dream,
something I wake from.
Something lose twice.
"Do you want me to distract"
Just one more time
Hearing about your sister.
Trying to say hi to your grandmother.
Seeing photos of your mom.
Trying to imagine placing myself gently
into the frame of your life.
"You deserve to be loved"
I only want Christmas Eve again
Your grandmother’s house.
You tired because you drove to see me.
Even the gas
that carried you to me
felt like love.
Making me feel the most special
on my birthday,
like the day was built around me.
"I won’t go to sleep"
Just one more time
Stay on the line.
like the night won’t end,
if neither of us hangs up.
You’re still somewhere
driving.
Just not toward me.
"I swear on my sister"
I believed you.
I still do.
Like a promise folded small
and carried
long after it expired.
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 11:09 PM UTC
"I’ll drive"
Just one more time
your car engine humming, country music low.
The world idling.
My head in your lap.
Your arms wrapped around me as protective as a seatbelt.
The world finally still enough to breathe.
"I won’t hang up"
You were on the line that night
hospital light,
fluorescent and white.
"High-risk" a warning label no one wanted to read,
too bitter for the tongue to speak.
My voice fading in and out of sight,
a signal losing its fight.
You stayed
steady as a dial tone
"I will always be here for you"
Just one more time
your blue eyes close enough
I don’t need a lens,
no viewfinder,
no distance to define us.
"I won’t let anything happen to you"
You told my mom everything,
because I couldn’t.
You watched over me,
when I didn’t know I needed watching.
Standing at a door
I didn’t know was open.
"I’m here"
Just one more time
Hearing gravel shift
when you pull in,
like the earth saying
stay.
it gets better.
Lying on the couch with a movie in the background,
voices flickering, no attention to them.
Reaching for you, no effort needed,
like gravity and fate intertwining us.
"I will keep you safe"
I don’t want you to ever again
feel responsible for saving me.
Counting miles between us
like heartbeats in the dark,
every mile another mark,
another spark
going out.
"I love your family"
Just one more time
Dinner with my family.
Plates clinking softly.
Rubbing your back when you’re sick,
slow circles, rhythmic.
Laughing with my brother,
as if you’d always been there
as if you were stitched in.
"I won’t disappear"
You always stayed
right up to the moment
I thought you might disappear,
"It gets better"
Just one more time
Your fingers threaded through mine,
everything quiet, aligned,
the world small enough
to fit inside a single line.
"You can fall asleep on call with me if you need"
I don’t want to own your dreams.
I know you’re always in mine,
moving through them like headlights on a dark road.
I don’t want you
to become just a dream,
something I wake from.
Something lose twice.
"Do you want me to distract"
Just one more time
Hearing about your sister.
Trying to say hi to your grandmother.
Seeing photos of your mom.
Trying to imagine placing myself gently
into the frame of your life.
"You deserve to be loved"
I only want Christmas Eve again
Your grandmother’s house.
You tired because you drove to see me.
Even the gas
that carried you to me
felt like love.
Making me feel the most special
on my birthday,
like the day was built around me.
"I won’t go to sleep"
Just one more time
Stay on the line.
like the night won’t end,
if neither of us hangs up.
You’re still somewhere
driving.
Just not toward me.
"I swear on my sister"
I believed you.
I still do.
Like a promise folded small
and carried
long after it expired.
This poem comes from my own experiences and the song Call Your Mom about holding on, showing up, and cherishing the small moments that mean everything