envy is a strange thing
i scrolled through
the life of a boy
i had never known,
watched the love
pour over him
like flowers on a grave,
watched the silence
turn to screams
of “i miss you”
& “why did you leave?”

& i thought,
what would they say
about me?
would their silence
finally break?
would their love
finally bloom?

but then i realized—
he is not here
to feel it,
to hear it,
to carry it.
& i—
i am still here.
& if i am still here,
there is still time
to teach them
how to love me
while i am alive.

—stay, even if the love feels quiet.