The truth is I missed her dearly.

She didn’t care to crack

perfection and tilt it on its side

to watch the pieces slide out.

She drives up and out

of the mountains and mixes red

bull with adderall. She spins in place.

She is before and I am after.

She wasn’t relieved to be sick.

I am relieved because I am not dying.

I am just less. Less than her

and what she was made of.

I now have no room for more.

I miss her as I wrap my knees.

As I take the pills and fill out

the maze of forms in every

waiting room.

Ticking boxes.

Dizziness.

Joint pain.

Rash.

I wish I could tell her

To enjoy her makeup

And her twenty-four year-old face

She was alive at that moment

But she was not thankful to be

Alive