Irretrievably broken. That's what the paperwork says. Irretrievably broken.
I pray dear God, I am not. But today, not so sure. Thought about writing an obituary for who I used to be, who he used to be. Sadly, those people are dead. I didn't get the honor of holding his hand, stroking his face, when he died. I am not exactly sure when it happened. I was robbed of that privilege. That closure. I was robbed of so much. Robbed. I have clung to life, always polly friggin Anna. Today, I died. Except not dead enough because this is fucking unbearable.
And now I fear I am irretrievably broken. Forever.
And he is free. Of me. Which is what he has been striving for...for at least the last 8 years. Well not him. The man I love died. I just don't know when. Nor did I have the privilege of singing Amazing Grace to him as he passed. But he, whoever took my love's place, is free. Something I will never be.
And I am irretrievably broken. Like the paperwork says.
