I thought it would be the quiet or the cold.
I thought it would be things I saw or heard, your music, your shows, your clothes.
I thought it would be the empty spaces where you’re supposed to be, the bare shelves, the missing clothes, the pieces of you in their special places, gone, gone, gone.
I was wrong.
It was a little moment of joy.
I wanted to share it with you.
But all I have is silence.
Then the crushing, crushing, crushing, like a black hole in my chest.
It all comes out and I’m scared that it won’t stop.
Keep moving, pull the towels from dryer, put the jeans in, clean the lint tray, add a dryer sheet, press start.
Then I can go to the dark. Then I can cross from dealing to dying for just a little bit.
Just until I have to live again.
Just until you come back to me.