The View from a Drawbridge

Has it only been a year?
It feels like I’ve been walking barefoot
through the broken shards of my grief for decades.
Has it been a year already?
Weren’t you lying beside me when I went to sleep last night?
It still shocks me to awaken alone.
Both at once.
Always
both at once with you.

You showed me what love is,
and what it isn’t.
And so we broke apart
and came together
like waves on a beach.

Your passion, your paranoia,
your generosity, your rage.
Will I ever laugh or cry as hard again?
You used to say, “How did I get so lucky?”
But I was the lucky one.
I got to ride your roller coaster for free.

You never stopped trying.
You never gave up.
You never knew what you deserved.
It ended too soon.
I wasn’t ready.

We still talk. We still debate.
Even now. So you already know
I loved half of you more than I will ever
love the whole of anyone else.

Do I have the right to grieve?
I may never stop.
Both at once.
Always
both at once with you.