Healing is strange,
Nobody tells you it feels like forgetting,
That one day you’ll go hours without the ache,
And feel guilty about it, like you owed the hurt something.
I used to keep a little space for you,
At the back of every room I walked into,
A habit, I think.
The way you check your phone even when you’re not expecting anything,
I don’t do that as much anymore, though.
But every now and then, with no warning,
Not a sad song, not a photograph, just the smell of something familiar,
Or the way the light falls on a sunny Thursday, and there you are.
The first time it happened after I thought I was okay, it floored me a little,
I had to set things down and just breathe, wait for the wave to be done with me,
The next time was quieter, more like finding an old receipt in a jacket pocket,
Something small, something that used to mean more, held for a second, then set aside,
Tender still, but bearable, and somewhere in the middle of all this,
I stopped mourning just you, and started mourning the girl I was,
When she still believed things worked out,
She was easier with herself back then, less careful, less braced for things,
She reached out first and meant it; she let herself be known,
You were part of why she could.
I’ve been trying to find her again,
Not the version tied to you, but the one who existed before the walls went up,
I think she’s still in here somewhere, after all, you reminded me she was real,
I don’t know what we were, exactly,
We didn’t have a word for it, but some things don’t need one,
They just needed to have happened, and I’m glad they did,
Whatever it was, it was mine. And it was good.
I know it was good,
I hope I created that space for you too,
However, leaving all this aside,
There’s one particular question I don’t know how to sit with,
So, please, give me a direct answer this time,
Do I thank you, or do I grieve you?