there are the people you love, and see a lot.
there are the people you love, and see sometimes.
there are the people you love and never see.
except, when your eyes are closed.
Is there a way to fill up my life
that I won't miss the people that used to be there.
I spend 9 hours in improv class
I'm crying on the train.
I'm brimming with joy, but also, remembering and anticipating loss.
tears are in the echo of each laugh,
laughter comes through the broken sobs.
both make me gasp for breath.
I am here, singing with my mom.
We say goodbye.
I hug her tiny, fragile body, and wonder how I'll ever make it in this world someday
without her pictures of the turkeys, and the groundhog in her backyard.
without the stories of the homeless people she feeds.
It's always there waiting underneath,
the sharpness of the missing.
every moment is so full
and also hollow.
I am completely whole
a broken piece, aching for more.
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