I’ve been carrying this torch
for far too long. I carried it when
you were broken and tired, uninspired by
the same old song. I carried it starting

in the summer of ’07 when you blew out
the candle on us. Carried it during the start of my
new job. I carried it during my cancer scare, when
you were nowhere, carried it right into the sterile

room where they inserted the long needle
for the biopsy, while I was petrified laying on
the flat, hard table. I asked for the blanket. But you
refused to even yield something that brought

comfort to me. I carried it during the
10-minute intervals when I felt like swill. I carried
it into every drunken rage against you – no more.
This time I’ll pass it on.