I can't write a poem for you.
I can't sing a song for you.
I can't be you.
I once wished I could take your place and told you I would in a heartbeat.
You said "Yes, please do!" but we know I can't even do that.
I only say I'm sorry and envelope your pain with my own.
We both know you're strong and have weathered many things.
But some things won't change.
This disease you have now won't change. You'll change with it.
You sent a text message, "I felt a tiny feeling in my left foot! Woot!"
I sent one back to help you celebrate.
I wished again I had what you have. Such a small thing you felt against the looming.
I can't linger on woe.
I can't linger on "can't."
I can't linger here without you.
I'll be a rock to your paper, to your scissors, to your own rock.
I'll be your memory if you ever lose yours.
I'll be here without you if I must, to keep you circulating through the veins of vast existence forever.