No one tells you
the waves of grief that will pour from you
when you think of how you failed them;
all the things you missed
—
All the times
you didn’t, but you should have
or you did, but you shouldn’t have
or wanted to, but couldn’t have
—
How you just took your eye off the ball only a few times
in exhaustion or simple humanity
and turned back
shocked
that it all happens so fast
—
The ways you will see their untaken paths before them
the same way you see your own
and just not know
if any of the choices are the best
—
for anyone
—
because there are no guarantees
and some shiny things
aren’t
—
And how hard the hard things are
when it’s the body you’ve held so closely against your own
that’s aching and frustrated
with the way everything gets complicated
—
But you really did try
and your love is an ocean that floods the valleys
and washes out some of the roads not taken
and maybe even some of the mistakes we’ve been making
—
So what’s left is this:
we’re here
sopping wet
but afloat
