If I could’ve spoken English for just one day,
I wouldn’t have wasted time
asking for treats,
or walks,
or one last ride in the car—
window cracked, your hand on my chest
like a seatbelt you didn’t want to let go of.

I wouldn’t have said “I love you.”
You already knew that.

You felt it
in how I followed you from room to room
like your shadow had bones.
In the way I sighed
when you moved me off your spot on the bed
but I never left the room.

I would’ve used my one day
to say all the things
you never let yourself hear
from anyone else.
The things you needed someone to say
without flinching.

I would’ve said:

You don’t have to keep shrinking
just to fit in someone’s arms.

You deserve to take up space,
and time,
and seconds that stretch out
without needing to be earned.

I would’ve said:

You weren’t dramatic.
You were drowning
in a place that looked like air.

I saw it.
I stayed.

I would’ve said:

You’re better when you sleep.
You’re smarter when you sing.
You’re beautiful when you’re writing—
even when the words hurt.
Especially then.

You are allowed to be tired.
You are allowed to want things.
You are allowed to leave
before you’re pushed.

I would’ve told you:

I knew when the end was coming.
Not because my body gave out—
but because your voice did.

You started saying goodbye
in the pauses.
In the extra seconds it took to say my name.
In the way your hands shook
before they reached for me.

You got quieter,
not in volume—
but in hope.

And even then,
I wasn’t scared.
You made dying feel like
staying close
in a new way.

You said
“good girl,”
and I knew what it meant.

It meant thank you.
It meant I’m sorry.
It meant please stay longer—
but I’ll let you go if you have to.

And if I had one more sentence,
just one more word
before my voice disappeared again—

I wouldn’t make it poetic.

I’d say:

You were enough the whole time.
You just needed someone who knew it
before you asked.
I did. I always did.
I still do.

Then I’d press my head into your chest,
like I used to—
when the whole world felt too loud—

and I’d stay
until you believed it.