Myles, I plan on dying first.
Not soon, just in the scheme of things.
Soon is in the time
I’ll spend coming home to you.
I call out “Human!”
and hear you answer, “Yes?”
when I open our door.
We joke that if we ever get a dog
we’ll name them Animal
so that at the end of our day
we can always come home and say,
Have I ever worn you out?
We talk about how
you grow in the same shape but I
change shapes faster
than I grow.
Okay, I added the judgment there.
You never seem to bring any.
What does it say that my first non-abusive partner
is the partner I married?
I think it says nothing. Maybe it’s just a numbers game—
no shortage of hurt in the world.
But for us, it means nothing.
I wish I could show my child self my now self,
my happy self. Maybe I would’ve had
an easier time surviving, but then again,
fuck it. I’ve already survived.
Maybe we should save these moments for our
future selves– we have so much surviving
left to do.
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