Words about M
You look happier now than I remember. And the last time I heard your voice, it was nothing but bad news about sinister friends talking behind my back about things you knew nothing about. Things that weren’t true, but things that still hurt. Things that put that small shred of doubt inside your head.
Maybe it’s better that I left things unhinged and unsaid. That I dismissed it all, rather than digging deeper into myself. We both know you had enough of that all those years ago. Before Hawaii, when you were happy and you smiled.
When money didn’t mean anything and I never made rent on time. When you would talk me into staying inside, rather than writing myself into the sidewalks and train tracks. When the shelves in my bathroom held your makeup and my shower held the outline of your naked body, even after you left.
I don’t miss the red sheets, but I miss having a bed to sleep in.
I don’t miss the floorboard creaks, but I miss hearing your key in the door.
What I miss more than anything, is having a place to call home, no matter where my feet took me. And you gave me that better than anyone, because you understood my heart and what made it beat.
And it hurts that your birthday came and went, but the courage inside of my lungs came out in a great plume of dust and I kept my face hidden in the clouds.
Apologizing isn’t beyond me, but that would mean having to say goodbye for the very last time. And I don’t know if the memories that are locked inside of my heart are ready to do that yet.