Are You Okay?

Are you really okay, as they say?
Are you just an empty vessel
Stalled out on some highway in Oregon?
Or do you truly remember what we had?
Do you think about us?
Do you wonder about the us that made it?
Or the us that never tried?
Are you really ok?
Or are you simply revealing two letters of broken?
Because I know you,
Or at least I did once.
And I know what you’re like
When you’re broken.

Do you still play?
The piano was always yours
But I had music.
Much like how you had Church
But I had God.

I never resented you
But God knows I never wanted music.

Give me something to work with:
Tell me tall tales
Of how you never loved me
Or lies
Of how you thought the unit was fatal.

Are you really okay?
Do you stand outside the Church
Waiting to market on recovering souls,
To sell them bells that we both know won’t ring?

Are you really okay, as they say?
Or do you lie awake at night
Contemplating coming back
To the only thing that mattered
Back then?
Did you forget the pledge we made to each other?

Did you lose sight of the future, and that’s why you left?
Or did you never really
See a future at all?

Are you okay with this?
And if you are, then how?
Why are you able to breathe
Without us?
Why can you live like this?


14 thoughts on “Are You Okay?

  1. Zander, what really is okay? Is it where we call out “when!” Or is it when we no longer recall what happy ever was? When we become old enough to envy ourselves and minutes press on like years, will we ever return to the Oz of okay? When sitting dead still is the only way we don’t spill, which way is okay?


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