was never the kind to cry.
So when I caught him in my room-
cheeks stained from hours of weeping,
I was petrified.
I knew the reason for his gut-wrenching sorrow,
but I couldn’t bring my mind to acknowledge that I caused this.
I willed my body to move toward him-
but my feet were nailed to the same spot
in the middle of the room, holding me down.
I watched my own flesh and blood
break in the very threshold I was taken away.
And, for the first time ever
get to his knees and pray,
“God, please bring her back, please.”
but, when I pleaded to him, “Ryan,
it’s okay, I’m okay now,”
my words didn’t make it to
his ears, they only clouded
my eyes with tears.
Because how is it possible
to hear a soul so lost,
it had removed itself from the world?
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