Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC

We are all recovering from something.

This is for all of us.

I think you should be nervous about

what I will accomplish once I heal.

The mountains I’ll move.

The miles I’ll cover.

The skin I’ll get under.

You were weak, and you left without a word.
It doesn’t take much strength
to slam the door
of an empty room.

you

told me

i was as

vital

as

that

after-dinner

cigarette

you

could never

have just

one of.

begin to miss meals

ache in the worst ways.

slip from our fingers like a haze of barely-there smoke,

you’ll bleed yourself dry for me one question at a time—no passing. i’ll lick your wounds

airless,

upside-down

“that you had every reason to lock, bolt, & paint your door shut, but you still had enough space in that trusting heart of yours to leave it ajar & brave the cold air for me.”