into birds

9 years disappear over night. for a glimpse of today I remember how it felt to find out and not know better than to hope it wasn’t true. I think about what happened and wonder if we’d still matter to each other had you made it to the picnic. is there a world in which we find our feet and live the dreams we wanted? if you could meet him would you want to know the person I’ve become?

my missing comes in tears and thoughts that cannot find their words. I hold onto your memory and fold it into birds.