I fall asleep to thoughts about the things I can’t have. It ebbs at the back of my mind like how you reached over the fence to grab my hand the night we cut through the west side of the city. I’m still starstruck from that act of grace. I am no such thing. Pulling my teeth out to form a better sentence but I’m bleeding all over the place- my sadness ricochets off my skin for everyone to see. I carry. Oh, how I carry. But when I carry everyone looks through me like a ghost that’s afraid of dying even though it’s already dead. Truth means nothing without forgiving yourself first. If I undo the damage then you have to call it truce. Remember it all a reflex- jolting through your bones like it never left you. It’s always been there- that form of healing and being and agreeing to let yourself get better. I fall asleep wishing for that kind of strength. I think it’s harder as the days go by and time pushes through me- but then I remember, there’s no such thing. -AMT