Evanescence is a gradual thing,
Nearly imperceptible to the human eye.

Small pieces simply blend into the background clutter,
Blurring what were distinct lines.

Subtly the erosion continues,
Widening the gulf between the present and the absent.

A larger world, hardly noticing or caring
Of what is being lost, continues on without skipping a beat.

And eventually the foreground and background 
Blend seamlessly around what once was there,

But now is…

I read this poem last night. 

When I stalked your page, the way you stake out mine. 

You taught me a new word in the process, Mr. Scrabble. 

And made my heart hurt. 

I hate that you feel this way. 

I can read between the lines.

Is it because I put together the Star Wars thing?

And that is usually your job?

I just knew you were tired. 

From working all day. 

From giving blood before chemo again. 

From Making An Appearance. 

I was trying to help. 

I made it worse. 

Par for the course it seems. 

You are here. 

You are with us. 

We are so thankful for that. 

Every day you’re here. 

Cancer can’t have you. 

You are going to beat it. 

We’re going for the cure. 

You are going to beat it. 

(Because it bears repeating.)

I love you damn it. 


Sorry I am a mess at showing you…

even after all the years we’ve been together. 

You’d think we’d have it down by now.

Today is a new day.

Screw evanescence.

It’s for steam and fog.

Not people. 

You are here.

Very much with us. 

And we are thankful.

1. (noun) evanescence: the event of fading and gradually vanishing from sight; “the evanescence of the morning mist”

© Turquoise Tangles, in reply to aclarityofconscious


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