I did not act alone. I did not act alone. I did not act alone.

I try not to write poems about you.
To stop the cliché
of heartbreak, blood on page,
   tear-streaked lines,
   confusion, nostalgia, and loss.

But I wake with your eyes in my head.
I see the world
as you had, through haze,
   with a chip on your shoulder,
   as art, as potential.

Then I walk the world with our pain in my bones.
Each step a million mile journey,
convincing my feet I know
   which direction to travel.
   That loss is not being lost.

And I sleep with your memory.
Dreams swirling and mantras repeated,
   reminders that I did not act alone.

1

2