Photo by Jake Young on Unsplash

I’m kept up at night
By the strangest thoughts
Are you warm?
Have you eaten?
Did you get enough to eat?
Have you slept well?
Do you still have nightmares?
And no one has to tell me
That it’s not my place to ask
No one has to tell me
That it’s not my job
Anymore
To worry about you
I’m not even supposed to care
Do you remember how it ended
And I was broken
Too tear-drenched to carry
Myself between rooms
And yet I dragged myself
Bodily to the kitchen
And made soup
I set some aside for you
Even though
You weren’t coming home
Because I needed to know
That you were eating
I needed to know
That you were alright
I don’t think I’m alright
But I think I pass
For alright
If one were to pass me
On the street
Don’t I seem fine?
But fine isn’t wondering
If you’re warm enough
And fine doesn’t care
If you’re getting enough sleep
Fine would have closed the door
On all such inquiries,
Thank you very much

I forgot that you don’t like soup.
I wonder if that means anything.

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