Pleas of Futility

Empty. Spacious. Full.

January 7, 2024 12:20am - 12:33am

"You are not a waste of space" he told her,
As she made an effort to take up as little as possible.
"You're allowed to take up space" he repeated,
But she was focused on all of the air she continued to breathe.
"'And don't be afraid to take it.'" she whispers to herself,
A memory,
Whispered in the void.
A casket,
Empty; spacious.
And she drew in all of the air that the world had previously withheld from her.
She could not share her space here with him, try as she might.
It was always hers to fill.
Even on his death bed, he knew that.
He always knew.
Even when she did not.