Thinking Back

It may have come in a surge, 

the caring for you, 

or as a sickening wave, 

but I never stopped—

not even for a second— 

loving, longing for, praying for,

and thinking about you. 

You are my other. 

I’ll have other others

… I’m sure. 

But I’ll never have another first other. 

A second or a third maybe … 

But you will always be the original other. 

You’ll always be. 

And I think that’s what

makes me so frightening. 

Why the other others are afraid. 

They can’t relate. 

They can’t see into my memory and experience you. 

That’s a privilege I have. 

The misery is a privilege. 

I am privileged to have lived 

in the reach of your existence,

to have been brushed and 

penetrated by your being

for a time. 

I know this. 

And I hate it. 

It scares me, too. 

-A Little Naieve