Hope: The Eighth Deadly Sin

I counted the number of times you left when you should have stayed
I kept a tally on my wrist
And each time you came back you had a different face
We all regarded you with hesitation
And wondered at the contents of your chest

Would the blood that ran fresh down my forearm
Be enough to pump your cancerous heart back to health?
I’m bigger now than I was when I was four

Could the three of us fill the void inside your ribcage?
Would we do more this time than we did that day
When the flashing lights took you away while we were sledding?

We perfected the art of knowing when you were about to leave
It’s a skill you’d think you were born with
But I have mastered what others call instinct

Like that time you left on Prom day, riding your motorcycle in the rain
They wouldn’t tell me until after
But in all the pictures my eyes reflect my mother’s pain

The thing about this game is, even when you win, you lose
Each time you left you took pieces of us with you
Tokens of our appreciation that we hoped you’d look back on with affection

Sometimes I felt as if you’d taken my whole heart
I sat on the bathroom floor
Trying to fill the hole with something else

The next time you walk away
I’ll be ready
Maybe it won’t hurt so much when I add another tally to my wrist
And when you’re gone we’ll never say it
But we’ll all hope that we’re missed.