Paean

There are certain chapters of this story

That I find myself rewinding back

And playing them

Over

And over

Again:

A sort of

“museum of her”

where

I can stand back and ponder

What it might have been like

To have been there in that moment…

Even though I was.

And I know too well the ending

And I remember all the dialogue.

Sometimes

I put those words around me like a jacket

Sometimes

They fit

Sometimes

They smother me

Sometimes

I find the zipper’s been ripped out

And there’s no comfort there anymore.