BB Grey–musings

of course you said we
& so i unlearned my own name
for the shape of an us

only to find
the space between your hello
& your goodnight
is an ocean
where i am
drowning

alone.

you have your house
your children a steady chorus
in the same key
you have the same walls
that have held other voices
& called it home.

& me?
i have too many keys
that fit no doors.
too many addresses
that never learned
how to hold me.

you ask if i’m okay
& i become a sculptor
of fine illusions.
i mold my face into a yes
i polish my silence
until it shines like a i’m fine

& you believe me.
you always believe the sculpture
never the stone.

tonight, your text is a small coffin.
your returned voicemail
a stone dropped in a well
i have already fallen down.

you will say you tried.
& i will say i know.
& we will both be telling
a different kind of truth.

the cruelest scripture is the one
we write on our own skin:
this is fine. this is love. this is enough.
i wear it like a vow
i wear it like a wound.

because the alternative
is a darkness
so absolute
even god
is just an empty chair
at the table.

so i will be okay.
i will stitch my breath
to the rhythm of okay.
i will wear this loneliness
like a varsity jacket
from a game
i never learned how to win.

& friday night
will come again.
the lights will buzz
a hollow gold.
& i will trace the ghost
of a homecoming
that never came
for me.

just the echo.
just the ache.
just the beautiful, broken
bittersweet melody
of me
fading
for one.