The words floated ghost-like
through the walls we had built
to protect us from
the unthinkable,
our compassion stockpiled
for others behind life’s
ever-narrowing moat-circles.

“It's Cancer" she breathed the word softly,
shifting from her matter-of-fact
doctor voice into
new-friend territory
as if she had just said "cat."

The room whitened and
her voice grew thin and distant
metallic in tone and taste.
I sensed our future dissolve
salt in water
tears pausing at my lips, ready to
sting a thousand cuts
that will never fully close.

I tightened my grip
your hand my tether
to our suddenly-distant past
where we lived heartily
in youthful foolishness,
your eyes my lifeline
to our newly-fragile
ever-precious
unwalled tomorrows.