I can’t ease her burden.
I try, but maybe not enough.
I can’t rid her of what I myself
am constantly entrapped by.
I can’t change the facts of you leaving,
unable to quiet the urge to call one last time.
I know you’ll hang up the second you hear my voice
no matter if I beg (and yes, I have begged).
I can’t bring you back by disappearing.
I can’t vanish into the Rocky Mountains
with the intention of you bringing me home
when the fear suddenly becomes impassable.
There is no god to rely on,
with fervent prayers and bowed heads
and trembling lungs.
There’s no magic word or pill
or perfectly formed key or code
to bring it all back to how it was.
She and I will never be naive again.
You will never hold my pain again,
my lifeline in a fight to stay alive.
So that leaves me, always me,
reflecting on the remnants of an unknown life.
I wonder if there’s anything worth building
when I’ve already lost trust and foundations
and hope and the childish wonder of a world
that could actually be good, could actually be safe.
