Once,
they were everything to you—
the family you never wanted,
the friendly shoulder
that listened,
though perhaps it went in one ear
and out the other,
because their lives
always mattered more.
College adventures,
laughter and memories,
the thrill of first love,
the marriages,
the secrets shared in circles of music,
as if drunk together in some bar.
The victories,
the illnesses,
the heartbreaks—
all of it left behind.
Because you asked for growth.
You asked for maturity.
You asked for expansion.
You asked to be well.
And the universe,
far wiser than you,
took you away.
Because to grow,
to expand,
to finally be well—
you had to leave them
behind.
