You’re sweating out the liquor. Palms sticking together- I wish you’d raise them to pray. I can’t teach you how to heal. Reversing every harsh word you say won’t take it back. You make the sharp pangs in my chest multiply and I’m not sure how I’m not bleeding all over the place. We were once girls, you know. We sat in dark spaces under the clouds and traced the stars with our fingertips. We dyed your hair blue in your parents bathroom and ruined your mom’s good towels. We snuck out when your stepdad would start screaming and you’d tell me your plan to run away. We stumbled through the neighborhood and pointed at all the big houses- you reminded me that a home isn’t what makes a family and you’re living proof. What do all these pieces lead to? Some sort of puzzle that I can’t put together anymore. Is there some sort of finality that I can’t grasp? You’re moving so quickly and I can’t reach out my hand without falling too. But I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. I’m a good piece to this story and I won’t tait my character just because you fucked up the plot. I won’t cure your rot gut hunger. I won’t hold on forever. -AMT ©️