This Movie Made Her Cry

Into my arms she falls,
all soft pillowy body
and tinged with salt.
She’s not yet desensitized,
like the rest of us.
With the scars of empathy
unhealed,
she is extremely sensitive
to the suggestion
of death.
.
Maybe she
shouldn’t have been allowed
to watch a tragedy
unfold like an old hospice bed.
Instead we should of wrapped her
in the comfort
of a children’s film,
all soft and smiles.
.
Compared to her,
I am bony.
I hold her when she cries
and uncomfortably
am a comfort.
I pat and stroke
as the salty snot
and tears
stain my jacket.
I tell a full story in silence.
.
I am not crying,
I’ve seen this before.
I commend the film
on its artistic merit
later
to others.
Later,
she mentions her dying friends.
Someone breaks in
saying they too
have that
but didn’t cry.
Her pillowy body
deflates.

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