How I languished. How my sadness still resonates in that room like a ghost made of smoke, passing through the walls. How my body gave it all – wrung salt from the corners of my stinging eyes. My God, what my heart must’ve been made of to carry that weight. My God, what my heart must’ve been made of to finally put it down. To think, you did not kill me. How crazy. To think, I would not lose anything but the suffering. I am still a woman made of hope, who holds her bones close when she sleeps – I am still a woman who dreams. Thank God. I still thank God you never came home to me.