Bad tastes lingered in my mouth,
because I was certain that I was not quite the person I should have been,
you asked me if she would have been proud of me this week,
and I did not know the answer,
I still do not,
not because I did not believe in myself,
not because I was ashamed,
it was just that when compared to her,
there was always more I could have done,
could be doing,
even now
exactly half my life has been spent without her,
half in the seemingly dimly lit Fata Morgana I looked for every night at magic hour,
but it was not the mirage I once knew it to be,
it was unsettling,
and I knew it was her,
lingering with good reason and warranted uncertainty,
wrapping her arms around my steering wheel,
but all I wanted to do,
every day,
especially today,
was show her good,
show her all the things we could gossip about one day,
wherever she liked,
wherever I was welcome,
I had been grasping at something here,
and sure,
not today,
but one day,
she would tell me she was proud,
so I could sleep in peace
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