It’s funny to watch you do it,
each step charging forward, but your weight held back.
Pulling, looking, searching, begging
for me to give you a reason.
Then, I realize this is your first time.
You’ve never left before.
Just because you’ve never left before
doesn’t mean you get it easy.
No, you have to look me in the eyes.
You do and you show me
everything you’re taking with you
away from us.
I see us sitting on the edge of a couch together, huddled under blankets with hot chocolate steam rising and blurring your glasses.
I see you calling after me, pouting because I didn’t let you open my car door.
I see more moments than we’ll ever have together flit past me, and I want to reach out and grab one- tuck it in my back pocket to
save a piece of you.
I feel smaller, emptied, taken as you blink at me.
The blinks erase those final doubts from your mind,
patting you on the back, coaxing you to take the final steps.
It’s not funny anymore, watching you leave.
It’s my weight holding you back, not yours
and you look better without it.
Jenna Keson 