She wants to lift her hands up to the sky
and feel the sun on her face
but all that comes is rain and shadow.
She wants to feel a hand in hers,
but her grasp is empty,
and her reach isn’t far enough
to get hold of anything
that might hold on in return.
She wants to keep her head above water
but she is tired of swimming;
she was never meant to roll
in salt-water waves of tears —
they overwhelm at every turn.
She wants to feel something warm again,
something that isn’t crushing,
something that isn’t broken.
She wants to know it will get better,
but I am supposed to have promised
not to lie.