What can I tell you? Can I say I panicked because I felt your cold arm? Would I be able to tell you that your body felt like a metal bar covered in some kind of spongy material.. a heavy weight? How would you respond to my sight of your unresponsive body lying curled on the ground? Would you understand why that sends my mind into spirals of agony that only mire me deeper in my own depression? What can I tell you?

I only let you ride your bike without my supervision under mental protest. The constant awareness of your face with a glazed open-eyed look.. the feel of your mannequin cheek.. the gradual bruising in the curves of your ears as blood collects…. pools.. never to move from that area.. my begging it to move so as to transmit to your mind the tears and cries that echo from my mouth… as though my terror of your departure would be powerful enough to hold you physically to a plane your spirit had already severed itself from.

What can I tell you without permitting my fears to become your own??