Much in the way

the death of your father

Left imprints in my spine

(I vaguely remember how

The reverberations of

losing grandpa

Shattered through my bones

In endless waves

Crashing shores of memories

That bled into endless days.)

Breaking your heart

In the wake of choices I had to make

Still visit my dreams in shadows left

of subtle regrets

As the most painful wordsI have ever had to say.

And I can still hear your voice echo

Through the speakers of a phone I never had.

And I am still here,

saying No.

I can’t.

But I wish I could.

And your pleading voice

drowned in your tears

leave messages

You never meant to speak.

But I still hear them.

and they taunt me.

I have forgiven myself

for that moment.

And I know that you have too.

Perhaps we aren’t even sure

that it really happened at all.

But I still get chills

when the phone touches my ear

or when I take the Interstate 5

North to the place I have chosen

against your wishes

to call home.

And though threats

that never made any sense

were as empty as we knew.

The wounds were deeper than we imagined.

And my scars are still here.

Each time I see them,

I am reminded that I miss you so much.

Just like I miss him.

Much like we both do.


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