Therapy, Part II

This time,
can I be more direct?
Can I talk about him?
Can I share how I feel
I failed him?
How he deserved better,
how he should have
been comfortable?

Please, give me his discomfort,
let me hold this pain forever
if that’s what it takes.

Don’t you see,
how everyone expects
me to be the one
who processes it all?

But I never processed
losing him.

I distracted myself.
Catapulted myself out of bed.
Forced myself back to work.
Left a trail of smiles
so people wouldn’t suspect.

And yet, the guilt remains.

It’s a crow that keeps circling
around roadkill,
waiting for a moment to indulge

in peace.

I don’t want to be alone in this.

(Please, be here for me).