Exhibit A:
If you walk away who is going to carry me home? Because I am a million miles away from my own body. I am not strong, I am not like you, I am scared. As I wiped the tear from her cheek, I have never been good at being a man. Just tell me your fears? How can I because the only thing I am afraid of is you. Now the future makes me ill, risk tears at my gut, and I am scared that you are leaving, but you were always leaving. Now I am leaving. Just a walking casket and it isn't fair to my mother to bury a son who is still alive. Just barely beating that dark cloud. Step after step, heavier than the last, I cannot last this way. You can have my sleep, you can have my joy, you can have my mind, but my body is left to ones I love. I am sorry because they should have been given the power I gave. They were the only ones I should have ever loved.

Exhibit B:
Think of her. Careful now. No need to pull out stitches. Even if it itches. Think of her. Piece her together. The calming touch and lifting voice that breaks silence like water soaking into paper. The pockets of heat under long hair. The humid shade of a willow tree in summer. Think of her. Tight embraces. Holding each other like we’re falling from the clouds into the sea. Support beams. Support system. Scaffolding and ladders. Empathy and curiosity. Piles of black dust. Misunderstandings gathered for extraction. The burden of Brazilian Cherry. The burden of her smile. Call the Doctor. Need new stitches.