Treasure

winter again
and she has been gone nine months
long enough to grow a life
to watch someone die
to fall in love

i keep my treasures scattered, afraid to hold them
in one place
afraid if i lose one
i'll lose them all

the ornament she touched when she was young
the one she gave me before i knew what loss tasted like
a photograph i won't let myself see
a piece of paper, creased and worn
with a name on it
few people know

a dead flower and like her
i can't let it go.

there are people-
i can see your faces now-
who will insist that she knows
meaning well, their words should offer comfort
but they only make me sour

i know my truth like you know yours
mine is hard enough to breathe through-
let me be.

i want to share with her the words spoken late at night
i want to tell the all the things i've found
i want to tell her i'm ok
even here, in the cold
with the season closing in on me like some slow, foaming dog
not fast enough to catch me
but i'm too dumb and weak to get away
like always.

i want to tell her
it might catch me
but i won't let it ravage me
not this time, not this year
why did i wait till she was gone
to lose the shit
that i was?

i should have let her see.

i should have let her know that wasn't me.

all my treasures, gathered up
digital messages and the worn edges
of a book
(she would understand why
only the real thing will do)
i am a hoarder of things that can't matter
to anyone else.