THEN

You were a pillar, sturdy and tall.
I desperately clung onto you.
Dependent, naive and still young,
I was ignorant to the fact that you
woke up too early and came back too late.

Until one day you collapsed
in front of me
and I fell along with you.

My fault, my fault, my fault.

Those bleak nights with your absence,
I stared into the darkness that seemed
to stretch for eternity.
I could not stop my cheeks from getting wet;
that saltiness that seeped into
the corners of my mouth.

No. I could not stay like this forever.
I need to change.
I need to be independent, because I'd
lost you.
I don't want to lose you
any further.

NOW*

You were once my anchor
to keep me from sinking.
Yet I've learnt to stand
on my own two feet.
You have finally returned,
but you are no longer as strong
as before.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay.*

You are shrinking- more bones
are protruding.
You move slowly, meticulously,
as though relearning how to
walk again.
I admire your resilience;
your diligence to get better.
No more waking up too early
and coming back too late.

We are both aging, yet
your rate of getting sunken cheeks
and sagging skin appears
to speed up too fast,
too soon.

If time could rewind, I want you
back to when you were still
tall and radiant, and that
I would get a chance to love you
more- I would not be a burden
to you, then.

What has been done cannot be undone.
So I embrace the changes
and learn to love you
in the present and many
years to come.

Thank you for being my pillar.