when we were, as we are, we were not. i didn’t see anything besides the car and the exhaust and the escape i might have. she hated my anyhow, and it was useless for me to stay. i fell asleep surrounded by photos and apologies.
years later i found out she knew about that day
and did nothing
years later when they told me she knew
she had no emotion
last night i told you of how no one is pure black or white. i have seen her shades of gray but she has never wanted to see my capability for white.
“you are a good person” (i’ve dreamt her saying) “i am so proud of who you’ve become” (i’ve imagined her telling me)
i remember that loss, it is visceral and a blunt object. but it is, and i am not who she said i was.
the blessing i got that day in nineteen eighty nine is this: i awoke, i breathed. the car was stopped, my heart had not. a thousand regrets and a sunny day yet it was november, twenty three years ago that i tried to take my own life.
“i think that i do deserve love” (an eruption of truth, september twentieth, this year, from my own mouth)
right now, this day, today, i shoot. i am here, among the living.
(i am happy on this day)