What is the point of me

Measuring time by progress through an economy sized pack of toilet paper

Everything wraps around itself self-consciously

adding new layers of trauma to repressed wounds and

smoothing over the sharp edges of voids faced directly

I don’t want to be smoothed

I need to feel every watery knife carving the grand canyon into my heart

trauma trauma trauma

Every crater on your face an impact where you protected me

but how could you know you’d be the worst of all

You’re still with me in every little thought

circling my feet, circling my earth

My stupid shitty self-absorbed world you were so patient with me

We slowed down so much these last few years but

I never imagined it was already your time

Except that I did, constantly

and every time it got too scary I’d lie down and put you on my chest and imagine us floating through space together for the rest of eternity

I’ll carry your weight in my chest until the day I die