some people carry around small pieces of everyone they have loved.
even after they put the love down,
even after they apologize- and apologize
that song they listened to on repeat that snow day,
favorite meals their mom cooked,
shoe sizes?
I never bought you shoes; why do I remember that
we place stones in our palms and pretend they’re the claps of rain against the roof
I drop you like water
did you hit the floor
or hit me instead
I don’t remember your middle name.
I don’t remember why that bandana is lucky,
or what movie is your favorite
today I’m not carrying that.
today nobody is in love with me and everything is still warm.
I still get to smile my big smile and double over in laughter
I get to walk outside and hear the leaves crunch beneath my feet.
I don’t even have to pretend they’re you
today there’s still honey to put on bagels.
there’s a speaker that plays our music
and there’s a dock we drag our toes from.
today I hold hands with the women I soak up
the bright red lips and the soft sweatpants
the short chopped up hair and the mismatched socks
the women I feel God’s work through and the women I stand behind and next to and
today the stones don’t hit the floor and they don’t hit me and they aren’t stones.
I think it’s going to be okay and
today I woke up and the birds didn’t chirp for me but I still got to sit in the nosebleeds and listen.