#187

from the first day we met, i was taken. pale and ethereal. you were a grandmother's china- dainty and full of blossoms, but everyone treated you as such, including me. you were put away on a shelf, so pristine, so rarely taken down and held and touched and used. no one willing to take responsibility for chipping you, maybe dropping you on the floor.
it was pure selfishness (an oxymoron at best), my own psyche- but i felt brave enough- foolishly believed i would not, could not let you break. it will never be enough, but i am so sorry. i am sorry i cannot pass you down to our children, to our grandchildren, to a world in need of carefully packed heirlooms.
you, who was so careful with every word, with every movement. you always loved as if one of us had died.