Uneven breath forms a cleft
between moistened lips, parting as I remind myself and you and everyone for the millionth time
that everything is okay.

“Everything is okay. Really,
love,
I promise.”

A lull.

Third time’s the charm,
maybe next time I’ll find myself in your arms. Maybe next time I’ll have something more constructive to say.
Maybe next time we’ll both feel convinced that my words are more than sounds ushered out of a mouth that longs and longs and longs to do more than say:

“Everything’s okay."