For Her, When the Time Comes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I want to fight for you, but I don't know if you'll let me. Give me some slack, though. Loss is hard.

Submitted: October 17, 2014

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Submitted: October 17, 2014

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For Her, When the Time Comes

I’m mourning a loss.

One too great to comprehend.

If you must die, sweetheart…die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

I’ll miss you until my dying breath.

Because we are invariably intertwined.

Our hearts beat as one.

Or they used to.

Now, maybe my heart simply beats with yours.

We had a love.

One that surprised me in its intensity.

And its commitment.

One that was nearly unconditional.

There was one simple, unspoken tenet.

 I had to be there.

And I wasn’t.

So,

If you must die, sweetheart…die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

The love was special.

And without boundaries.

The rarest to find.

That was us.

Before.

Now, maybe it’s just me.

Because I don’t deserve it from you anymore.

I stumbled.

I tripped and fell when you most needed me to stand tall.

Stand tall and be strong.

You had no choice.

So you have no blame.

And should bear no guilt.

If you must die, sweetheart…die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

You taught me.

You brought shades to a world filled with absolutes.

You showed me that light was not always needed to counteract dark.

You revealed to me that weakness was an option instead of a prison.

You affirmed that divergence was superior to uniformity.

You taught me.

And I will take the good with me.

Wherever I go.

I will take your essence with me.

Wherever I go.

So,

If you must die, sweetheart…die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

I have suffered.

I have lost my way.

But through suffering, I have become stronger.

Stronger than I was before.

Strong enough to fight.

So even though I feel as though I’ve well and truly lost you.

Even though it may take years.

Or decades.

Or centuries.

I will fight for you.

I will pray to a God I no longer believe in.

I will become vulnerable.

I will take my heart from my chest and wear it on my sleeve.

I will hand you the power to destroy me and trust that you won’t.

I will fight for you.

If you must die, sweetheart…die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

Yes.

I’ve suffered.

I’ve loved.

I’ve lost.

But I have not yet fought.

I believe in you.

More than I believe in myself.

And I need you.

No.

I have not yet fought.

But there is nothing holding me back.

So here I begin.

Begin to try and pick up the pieces.

Of a mirror.

Of a picture.

Of trust, broken.

And I will put them back together.

No matter how long it takes.

If you must die, sweetheart…die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

Gold can be used.

To fill in the cracks.

To make something broken more beautiful than it once was.

I will scour the earth.

To find it.

To fix what I shattered.

To bring us back.

So,

My sister.

My best friend.

I refuse to accept that I have lost you.

But,

If you die, sweetheart…die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

 

D.M.

 


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