It appeared like a puzzle piece thrown away,
an old puzzle discarded,
a new one reinvented
out of threads or maybe just ideas
from the first one
but transformed into something a lot like light,
sunlight that peeks through the cracks in the ceiling,
little smiles that lift a broken heart back up,
once wounded, now stapled and stitched back together,
and somehow, even the chill in me,
that I try to shake off like a dog leaving the pool,
melts beneath every smile of yours,
and then,
the guilt creeps in,
an unwanted visitor
that instead of offering company by the handful,
offers destruction by the bucket load,
and my voice isn't load,
it isn't something that can scare someone away so strong,
made strong by his weakest moments,
and yet, right now, I feel like a crook,
I woke up dizzy,
nearly fainted underneath this shock,
the sickness in me as stubborn as it can be,
and I hear a sound,
like gravel curling into the dirt,
and what sounds like a wail left half on mute,
and when I step closer to the door,
I can nudge it just open enough to see
you, kneeling on the ground,
your knees must be tired,
must be caving out,
and yet, it's your voice,
perfectly controlled at the moment to not sneak into
our home, to be muffled by the night around you,
and what of the moonlight that falls on you,
all I can see are your tears,
little stars that I wish weren't falling to the earth,
and your hands are gripping the earth
like it's the only way to stay afloat,
and it's your words,
a prayer I'm not meant to have heard,
a broken plea that maybe I won't be sick anymore,
that maybe I'll get better and not just better,
but be more perfectly healthy than anyone who has ever came before,
and I know it's a moment between you and God,
but I can't leave you like this on the ground,
and so, I push my way out of our home,
trembling like I'll hit the ground any second,
not from my sickness (I don't feel sick at the moment)
I am scared,
not of you, never of you,
but what pain will make itself your only company,
of the way I won't be able to make you smile one day,
the way that even now,
I'm not sure I'm strong enough to wipe your tears away,
after all,
I somehow placed them there,
I created the rainclouds
that I wish I never could have,
"Zeno? Zeno!"
My voice is breathless,
and my hand feels like it doesn't belong,
when I place it on your back,
feel skin that's pulled as tight as wire,
feel the shattered pieces of you beneath me,
the parts of you I can't see at all,
and you curl into my arms,
and I wonder just how little our time is,
how much I've hurt you,
"It's okay." The whisper isn't shrouded
by the tears that were in your voice,
it's soothing and strong,
the way I've known you to be
ever since the moment you found out I was sick,
that you found out that I was dying out here
in a hut by myself,
away from anyone that I could accidentally hurt
"You don't have to watch me die."
It comes out almost cruel,
words that I didn't mean that way,
not the harsh way that they fall from my lips,
and yet, it's true
I don't want Zeno to be here,
to stay here as a living witness to my pain,
not if it kills him too,
His answer is quiet
and a plea,
the way he pulls me close,
tucks my head beneath his chin
like he can somehow knit me all the way back together again,
even though when I taught him to knit,
the needles always found his fingers
with an ease that shouldn't be,
"I'm not leaving." It's strong and steady and determined
"Zeno." And fingers curl into my hand, and any argument is fallen away,
is just dust and ashes, the remains of stars left behind
"I love you" And it is so real,
so strong, that I wish it wouldn't hurt him so much
"I love you too." And if only I could live,
just long enough to wipe the tears from his eyes,
to make sure he can smile,
even if I'm not there,
if only I could somehow help him to bury the pain,
if only to keep him well,
but I'm dying,
and he isn't,
though I hope that one day,
we'll be back together again,
just like this,
but happier,
even though some day soon,
I won't be able to make you smile