We came home.
She got sick overnight
over an hour
over a minute.
Over a dinner table conversation
Over a “i think we need to talk.”
I felt nothing.
We came home
She got sick
I felt my mother turning into
something more like a child
that needed to be tiptoed around
because she could no longer feel the sun
or the salt that was from anywhere but her eyes.
Leaving me to try to make shift something as wonderful as the sunlight

We are told that everything we do, has a consequence.
Those who dangle their hearts in front of dogs
could be left with a tattered ones.
Those who swim in deep water could drown
Especially those who never learned to stay afloat by themselves

you say that love is more complicated than cause and effect

and that mouths speak what brains think and hands touch what hearts want
And sometimes you feel like you're being controlled
not by your soul but by a group of ruthless
limbs and organs that could be exchanged
when you die anyways.

and that carrying love is like

seeing the entire sky after only seeing out your window.
hearing the gunfire voice that you still learn to sing along to.
feeling the cold without your coat to keep you comfortable, warm and safe
and you are left disoriented, deaf, and numb

but you come back even after the consequence
with a sewn up heart
and a new life jacket.

you say that they will always come back to the ocean
even after its left them gasping.

Blue spit laced with the sour taste of pining
for someone other than the one you love.
The tea bag immersed in blood red water
thats the same color as the hands that were
supposed to catch.
Everyones eyes that are looking and not understanding
Yeah ******* too.

You stopped filling my bucket
and now i am empty

You hold me together the way bobby pins keep the hair out of my face. Keeping the distractions hidden from my eyes.

Spinning me in circles, except not like a carousal, but like a blender, slicing me into pieces at the same time.

I struggle with the in-between moments.
In between the ice-cold glasses of water
In between the way bodies fit together
In between the way that they suddenly become
two completely different pieces.

FWD: you didn't even have to tell me you lost feelings, I ******* felt it.

You struggle with seeing the important moments.
The day you decided that brown eyes aren't so boring
The day you introduced me to your mother
The day that we had the conversation that changed us from a perfect fit
to a square that a toddler is trying to shove into a rectangle shaped space.
Close but not quite.

FWD: I grew up, you didn't.