Can he really be gone? Many years spent hoping that he’d finally see the treasure. But sometimes, “X” does not mark the spot & the treasure lies quietly beneath the sand. Waiting, but tarnishing.

Another one has the arms he was searching for. Was the smile off when I looked at you? Perhaps intensity wasn’t the right emotion to present in those crucial moments. Perhaps you just needed me to listen. But… too late. Now, waking in the night, breathless & panicked, is how I differentiate the days from the months. Still breathing. Still thinking. Too much.

Rings, rice, & renewal of a secret promise made some months back. Cheers, champagne, & cringing into a napkin so that the bouyant mood isn’t ruined by my inability to give happiness freely. Inability is only a new manifestation of weakness.