Part 1: You
I know you don’t got friends like my friends, friends in the backseat of moving boxes holding your muscle mass close while we all lament how I’m better off without you. I know you don’t got friends who sideline conversations and consummations to ask me if I need a hand to hold while I don’t text you back. I do. I do text you back while they’re in the next room, to tell you you’re too late, a period after a partial-birthed sentence to death in my mind, second of your kind but what did you expect, lab results came in and if you repeat the pattern I will explode. I am worn out of your half-minded admissions and apologies because the only penance to me would be full confessionals but you can’t look in a mirror let alone church so I am stuck with my rosary beads.
Part 2: All
I feel Janie’s arms around me, H Melt’s head on my shoulder, Kiam swaying to the song, Dietzler tossing me to the side in his arms, Cassie’s breath in my ear, Joe and Stefin are tapping my shoulder, Joseph is spraying Florida water in my face while Jesus cuts my hair, Grace is using one arm to wrap me like an infant and one to text the draft to you we never sent, Dana is sleeping like a warrior and Patrick will stir like a summer’s drink in his sleep, Jessica will look me in the eyes and ask me ask me ask me why, Monica will give me a plus-one for her wedding, Adam will forgive my absences and Seth will lament with me like he knows no love, Nico will commiserate while Tony laughs behind the bar because he knows me glass half-full, Rachel will nod and Kelsey will shrug, Ian will send me well-wishes like the pennies I tossed in, and more will ask why they were not poetically professed, so I am surrounded by love and I will always be fine.
Part 3: Me
I ran out of words for you a month ago. You can’t undo final prints. I don’t know what else to say, the eulogies are wrapped in love and hate and bare-bones raw nights I do not privilege you to see any longer. I am victor because I always recover, stronger, aware, gracious and open.