Free Verse Friday

I dreamt you were a cloud drifting down to earth to steal me away from the ground.
You wanted me all to yourself to show me something new in the sky, where reality could take a break and we could be alone.

As we floated higher and higher I held onto you tighter. You covered me like a blanket
I wrapped my arms around you to keep you close.

You brought me back down as your white turned to gray and when you turned away your lips brushed my skin,
a goodbye I didn’t know was coming.

It’s been days and I’ve been sitting in the grass waiting for you to return
soaked to my bones, I look up to the sky and shiver—
I’ve never felt it rain like this before.


Instead of writing a poem, I’m just going to instruct you to read Paulina’s twice.


I was never there when your eyes were opened,
not until that very last time.

The hospital bed seemed to swallow you, the sheets making your body look
thin. I hadn’t noticed the frailness of your skin, the circles under your eyes.

You were tired. You were lonely. You were hungry for the
life you had with her.

You were ready.

You were pieced together by the fashions of your family,
the veterinaries, the hawks and cyclones and corn fields.
You were in love. You danced and you drove and you went to the mountains
together, uphill and downhill and across the summer fields.
You were stuck. You had no life beyond her. You held the world when you held her hand,
and I couldn’t save you, not with tacos or lasagna or macaroni and cheese.
I couldn’t save you, but I tried. When you got lost I tried to find you.

But I was trying to find myself, too.

I should have made peach pie. Then maybe you would have felt
home again.
Maybe you could have stayed longer. Maybe that wouldn’t have been
enough either.

I feel guilty, knowing that I could have done more. I could have said, “Hey, cutie!” more often, but instead,
the last time will always haunt me. I hope you hugged her for me, because I told you to,
and you were always a great listener.

It’s only been a year. But I can still
hear you, your laugh on the other end of the phone,
the excitement in your voice over the new adventure in my life, my engagement.
The call was
all about me. But you promised to get better. You promised.
You promised.
I miss you.


(*my grandpa always called me meggy. he died a year ago July 31st)



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