She’ll Be Fine

She is not the size two brunettes on Snapchat stories or the size four blondes that are in a Facebook reel. She is not a someone else or a something else or a distraction or a secret. She is bold and giving and she is

fine.

She is a page turning without you. She is getting a little older and a little more true and her patched together and cracked compass shows her north a little more clearly and she is

fine.

She still loves and she still tries and she still cares and she still laughs in the right places. She is dramatic and a little caustic and a tiny bit mad but she is

fine.

She has a hitch in her voice that showed up in the tenth grade and a swing in her hips that showed up at eighteen and a look in her eyes that came around 31 and she is so damn

fine.

She shows up right on cue and she still prays for you. She is dancing in the kitchen alone and she is grocery shopping alone and she is alone. She passes you in the hall and she passes by in the bedroom and she passes through her day without you and she is

fine.

She cries the tears and she gives the damns and she won’t ever do you dirty and she swears up and down that you’re a really great man and she misses that she’s convincing herself too because she’s

fine.

She is exercising and highlighting and taking pills and maybe if she looks just right it won’t hurt tonight and she is

fine.

She’s balancing the “it’s over” plates with the “happily ever after” plates and she wasn’t built for magic or pretend and really it’s okay because she’s

fine.

She asked for change and she asks for love and she asks for more and she asks and asks and asks and you would never know because she tells you it’s

fine.

She came with a warning sign – bright red and yellow – and how anyone could ignore it is maybe just exactly how we got to this line. And I know you won’t worry – because that takes effort you refuse to have – but she’ll be

fine.

She likes herself best in the dark where her scars glow under the covers like Christmas lights in snow. She has an “I’m sorry” forever stuck in her throat and a voice that is always lost in a disappointed undertow but she is

fine.

One day you’ll wake up and she’ll be just

fine

in a different kitchen with a different bed with clean sheets and a blue sky and you will swear up and down that you never saw it coming

But.

But.

But.

Everyone knew her fine was just a

lie.

xoxo, B.