“You’re my best friend.” she repeated, for the hundredth time if for the second. “You’ve come so far in two years, but there’s still so far to go. I just wish…”
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“You’re my best friend.” she repeated, for the hundredth time if for the second. “You’ve come so far in two years, but there’s still so far to go. I just wish…”
I’ll sit at the table.
I’ll eat the dinner, I’ll listen to the conversation.
I’ll unwrap gifts along with the others.
I’ll be there, but there’ll be moments where I’ll realize it will be a tiny bit different this time around.
…
We once spoke of ashes, of cinders
left behind in lightning-ravaged woods.
You questioned how you would rise from
your forest floor.
…
Everyone slips through my fingers
As soon as I can touch them
…
I know you’ll find your way.
You can’t stay here
You may stay here, should you choose
You are wanted here, by many, without a doubt
But it’s written all over every cell of your body
That you can not stay here
That you will not stay here
“It’s ok, no matter what happens.” they tell me, but I fear for them anyway. Their logic, reason, and emotional intelligence is some of the most powerful I’ve ever seen. I fear for them — their potential disappointment, sadness, loneliness, heartbreak — they act like their shields are all securely in place but I sense joints in their defenses where pain can seep through.
Nothing lasts forever
Neither episodes nor greetings
One day, none left
No more
Your fading presence will one day leave a hole in my life I’m not sure I could fill again.
You walk through my life with gentle steps, in shoes none other can fit.
One day the footsteps will become quieter. I’ll strain to hear them, and a sad echo will surround each distant tap.
.
July 12, 2025
(Reflections on a friend and predicted futures.)
Their memories are vague concepts to me.
Myself, who never knew their fields:
I can only catch glimpses from a distance,
aided by stories told across chasms of time
and left written in the sand when the empathy tides recede
on memory shores.
…