I didn’t care. Really, and truly, if you had asked if I cared, I might
have said “Do what you want; I’m not your Boy Scout leader. I don’t
care”. And maybe, maybe you would have gently pulled my face up to
yours and read the lie that was plainly written all over my face. And
maybe you would have been able to see the heart wrenching pain in my
eyes; bursting with tears that refused to be shed. And maybe you would
have said “Butterfly, don’t cry I will always be there. I promise.” And
lift me up so I could kiss you, because, of course, I can’t reach all
the way up those basketball legs. The kiss would be brief and sweet,
your way of reassuring me that all would be right in the world. You’ll
see.
Of course, you didn’t do any of those things before you went off to
“serve your country” and “be a man” and give everyone “life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness.” But what about my happiness? What about
that? Didn’t that matter to you at all? But I suppose that I should try
to be fair. You did write a note to me. It has a lot of letters from the
alphabet that piece together a message about why you did this. But I
don’t care about that part- I care about the part that reads “I love
you; you are my angel from heaven above.”
And the part about this that makes me want to hide from my grief and pain, is how I’ll never get to say it back to you.
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