Hey, I’m back.
Sorry, it’s been a while,
but, y’know, global pandemic.
So, here I am.
Sorry, no cigarette to share,
I don’t smoke anymore.
Is this the first time
you’ve seen me addiction free?
Strange, I know,
the world has changed now.
I sometimes wonder, had you lived
would there even be a virus
stealing the world’s breath;
like you stole mine, steal mine,
making it so hard to breathe
that I have to pause reality
just to exist in that moment
of empty stillness.
I may be losing the ability to hear
silence.
I didn’t cry all week
just so I could cry now,
here, with you, for us;
not at home, by myself, for myself.
This is an inconvenience.
You were a tragedy.
The wound was, is trauma.
If I close my eyes,
I can see your face complete
with its cheeky mischievous grin,
playfully content that it was
your friendship that gave me PTSD,
not the other way around, but
your eyes know what I need to ask,
say that it is okay to ask.
Can I face the trauma?
Can I move on, move beyond
without fear, without guilt?
Can we sit together now and
change the background of my iPhone
from my favourite photo of us
to something just representative of me?
Just the Lock Screen though,
small steps, baby steps.
If I forgive you for leaving,
can you forgive me too?
For I finally understand that
the process of moving forward
is a process of forgetting.
Your image is in my heart,
it doesn’t need to be on display.