Do you remember
the time
we grabbed dinner
when I
had the flu
but didn’t know it?
I could barely
stomach
their Famous Burger
because
my body was rejecting
everything
Yet
I kept forcing
small bites
every
few
seconds,
knowing you’d make
a comment
otherwise
In many ways,
I never understood
whether
your words were
out of concern
or criticism,
maybe a bit of both?
I was
instead,
trying to understand
this newfound
hesitation,
and if it was
actually
fear,
holding you better
than I could
You should know,
I have never defined
you
by your studies,
as it is one of those
mind fucks
that never clicked
But, some of us are
beholden to our parent’s
hopes and dreams
and
that night,
you told me about the time
your father called you Stupid,
and said if you didn’t
Clean Up Your Act
you would spend
the Rest of Your Life
flipping burgers
You paused
momentarily,
before saying
it was
Well-Intentioned
I know every parent has
their own method
of madness,
but I don’t consider
good intentions
a nuisance around
one’s neck,
and if I hadn’t been
half-dead
from illness,
I would’ve taken
your sweet hands
to remind you
Because now
and for
the Rest of Your Life,
you are enslaved
to prove something
that should
never
have to be
earned.
When my friends
asked
how you were doing,
I said
“he’s out there saving lives
because
we do for others what
we cannot afford ourselves”
And so,
when you speak of
the masochism,
the exhaustion,
the commitment,
the seclusion,
as you will
to my replacement
I hope you recall,
in the face of
your strenuous nature,
my blind loyalty
Even when it drained
you
to the point of
hollowness,
even when it put
Everything into Question,
I was rooting
for you
and us,
in spite
You were to me
like an organ,
a limb,
a tendon
and now my body
must remember
what it has
lost
All those
slow
and
lazy mornings
as you described them
that Thursday evening
in March,
outside that godforsaken
restaurant
Where you never
kissed me
and I never had to
ask Why
again.
Bruised Ribs
Illustration by Albert M. Nikhla
Posted On: January 3, 2025