It doesn’t happen as often now,
those moments rolling
into tidal waves.
When they do, they hit harder
knock me
to my knees
hands clutching at my throat
trying
to keep air in my lungs.
*
It doesn’t happen as often now
those dreams of visiting
in familiar places.
When they do, I know
you’re not
really there
just the wishing in my head
flying
free as you are.
*
It’ll never not happen,
I’ve tried
to fit those moments
those dreams
into memories of who you were
in your best times
even in your worst.
I’ve tried being grateful
for the time I had,
that your pain is done,
about your next adventure.
I try and I try, and sometimes
succeed, and yet,
there are those moments.
Modesty Is For Suckers 