you don’t // i won’t

there are still words to write — and so i do

in a year full of turmoil, i used to say, “this year has been bad, but at least i have you.” and it would offer light to the dark. it would remind me that despite the bad, good was still possible. that there were people in my life who warmed my heart — that love was still possible. 2020 was good because you were there. and then suddenly you weren’t. and then suddenly there i knelt, on the cold tile floor, fingernails digging into my arms (a reminder that it was real) as i wrapped myself up in my limbs, retreating; a gaping hole in my heart. and the longer time goes, the smaller it gets. the longer time goes, the more the piece you stole doesn’t fit — but if you wanted it to, you could. but you don’t. so it won’t. and (even though that hole wants me to) i won’t wait for you. so i don’t.