Unlike the kind of wound you're trying to befriend.
How do you explain a pain
that chokes the air from your lungs?
As strange as it sounds,
this one is getting sicker.
But I've stepped out of his gravity. There was a time I thought I'd shine brighter orbiting his. As if light only made sense when it came from his direction. Maybe now, I want to be the sea. Or maybe dust. A part of everything and owed to no one. Maybe a voice, a line between letters. Or a scent that lingers in the doorway, long after I've left. Maybe I just want to be human again. Someone ordinary. Someone allowed to feel joy without apologizing for it. Someone who still waits for good news without bracing for the worst. Who still hopes. Who forgets, and forgives herself, anyway. I still look at the sky. Mostly after dawn, when everything is hushed, and the prayers still hang in the air. He's probably shining somewhere else now. He always belonged to a different sky than the one I could reach. And yes, some nights I miss him before I even realize I do. And some mornings, I still look for him out of habit. Glance upward as if he'd still be there. But I'm lear...
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