I grew up around fire pits
and on long drives to nowhere
With conversations that always felt
we were leaving something important out

Bottles of bourbon hidden in trunks
and Altoids containers filled with prescription pills
rattling around in the bottom of my purse

We became experts at deflecting questions
At making excuses
Putting on faces and telling each other
“it’s not as bad as all that”

Always thought we’d ask for help
when it got bad enough
Until then
we’d just roll with it

Sitting on the steps at Jason’s apartment
we didn’t talk about anything
and pretended it was a choice to share a silence
instead of an inability to let each other in

And even when his mom found him
swinging from the rafters
of the house he grew up in
We told ourselves we were all perfectly capable
of carrying the weight alone