I rode my bike past your house last night to see if maybe you were there
A watercolor background of blue, pink, and orange lay gently behind power lines that bordered the suburban sky,
Like barbed wire fences in a prison yard.
I thought you would have been eating dinner with your mother
Like you always did.
The two of you seated across the table from one another
Exchanging meaningless stories over spaghetti and meatballs
Smiling occasionally to help mask the reality
That this wasn’t normal,
That a family-dinner should not be a dinner for two.

I planted my bare feet firmly on the hot pavement
Bike in hand
I stared at those perfectly white front steps
The saccharine scent of your mothers prim roses filling the air
Remembering the endless hours we spent sitting there
When you would take my hand in yours and draw circles on my palm
Around and around your finger would trace, like a cyclone with no end.
Around and around.
I’d rest my head on your warm shoulder
Feel our bodies breathing in sync
As if they depended on one another.
I’d let my lungs absorb your smell
Imagining it coursing through my bloodstream
A beautiful drug.
That sweetly scented cologne still lingers on the sweaters you let me keep
Each time I draw the fabric to my nose, I feel sheltered.

We sat on those steps as crystal snowflakes fluttered in the crisp winter air
Like white butterflies in the wind.
And while warm raindrops trickled down on us
Cleansing our thoughts
Bringing us clarity.
And when the summer sky was a sapphire sheet
Crowded with fluffy white figures that floated meaninglessly about
Before finally hugging the vivid sun.
Each embrace having it’s inevitable end
As the wind carried them away from the warmth.
From the light.

But where were you
When the auburn and golden leaves started to fall down around me, like bombs?
When the smell of rot and wet pavement became as unavoidable as the pain?
Where were you?
Where were you as they dug deep into the moistened earth,
And granted you a new home?
Were you there?

They call your mother crazy now.
The look in their eyes that once held pity
Has faded quickly to judgmental bitterness and misplaced concern.
They speak of how much she’s aged in these past twelve months
How she needs to come out of the house
How she needs to face reality.

I saw the light turn on in the window on the left
Your bedroom.
Her figure stood there in the doorframe, motionless
An unseen barrier held her back.
Told her not to go any further.
So she stood there, and stared
Until one small tear trickled from her eye
Then another
And another
A waterfall of abandonment
Of guilt
Of dreams that were pulled away from her
So quickly
With the resilient ocean tides we call
Depression.

Her tears overwhelmed me
A stab to my throbbing heart
So I peddled down the familiar streets
To your new home
Christened with nothing but a polished stone
And a bouquet of flowers you would have hated.
I want to blame you
For the pain you tied around my neck
For the shadow of guilt
Of loss
That follows me each and every day.
But I can’t escape it like you did.
I’m drowning
Down
Down
Down
Gasping for an answer
Why did you do it?

The summer wind blows softly on my neck
As I trace the letters of your name before me with my quivering fingers
I want to feel your hand holding mine
To stop this ceaseless shaking
To make me feel secure.
I draw cyclones on my hand
And imagine that it’s you.
A brief escape.
I pull your sweater to my face and I breathe.
In and out
In and out
I am alive.