Epitaph

I can’t compare you to the stars because all i can taste right now is the tea you made me on the days i was too sad to get out of bed or breathe on my own and would apologize for all the terror and thunder in my breast. I’m sorry. It’s a lot of  work keeping it silent and I’m bursting at the seams from it oh how I hurt but, love, know it isn’t you. Please know this isn’t your fault I do this to myself with my constant thinking.

You gave me tea strong enough my three-days-hungry hands stopped shaking and black as the night sky crawled in bed beside me bringing all those cubic feet of soil on top of me with the blankets although I couldn’t see a grain of it. Without your sadness you would be someone new. I never want you to change– let me take care of you.

In the loamy, starless dark I drank your tea and I knew.

rlb 4.3.17

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