Then

“Look alive,” he always said.

How do I look alive when

you make me feel so dead inside?

Where did I go?

Will I ever know

how you slowly took pieces of joy out of me

and called them stupid wastes of time

and I believed you?

It took over ten years, but almost all of me believed you.

There was a tiny piece I hid away, saving for a rainy day,

knowing I had to come back to it somehow

that this was just a part of life to get through

Marriage, house, kids . . . years flying and dragging.

Dragging me along with them. Ripping at my skin, chipping away. 

Will there be anything left?

And when will this be? The Golden Anniversary?

I can’t wait.

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