Waxing Philosophical
How about I leave,
and you can have your life back.
The brilliant one
you know—
the one
I seem to have dimmed
without meaning to.
Sooner than expected.
Aha.
Lightbulb moment.
How’s life treating you?
What can I do better?
Would you like to hear from me
more often?
Do you ever wonder
if I disappeared
whether you’d notice?
Not immediately.
Just eventually.
You seem to be doing fine
without me.
Don’t get me wrong.
I like that.
I like knowing
you don’t need me.
That I can leave
and nothing important
will stop moving.
I am important
Just not vital.
There’s a difference.
And somehow
that difference
has become
the whole story.
So say it.
You’re happy to see me.
You just don’t miss me.
I can live with that.
I think.
I am dispensable.
A word I never thought
I’d have to use
for someone I loved.
But while I’m still here
let’s get together.
We can talk about
the good times.
The bad ones.
The things we survived.
The things we didn’t.
We can laugh.
You can tell me
you’re doing well.
I’ll tell you
I’m happy for you.
And neither of us
will mention
how strange it is
to sit across from someone
who once felt like home
and realize
you could leave the room
and they’d still be fine.
So—
how about I leave?
Not dramatically.
Not angrily.
I’ll just go quietly,
the way people do
when they finally understand
they were never
the part you were afraid
to lose.
