Sometimes when Im alone I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train the kisses in the arena.

You love me. Real or not realI tell him Real.

What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.