We always talked about this day-
but that didn’t mean it would have to come.
I hold his hand just like I did when we were sixteen,
our fingers lacing together,
forming a knot that couldn’t be untied.
Maybe if I hold tight enough we’ll end up back there,
when we passed notes in class and sang along to the radio.
We took those days for granted,
but maybe that only made them sweeter.

I look at him now-
instead of a soft cotton t-shirt he’s wearing a starched uniform.
I know underneath it are dog tags stamped with the name that is engraved upon my heart,
which is now faltering in my chest.
This can’t be happening to me-
he pulls me close,
his body enveloping mine,
if only time would stop,
freeze-
let me stay in this one last moment where we are both alright.

But no-
we must struggle to speak,
to say the right words,
because we know they’ll be all the other has to hold onto for months,
or years,
or maybe forever.