In my dream I held her.
She was tiny, crazed with rage.
She beat her little fists against my words,
as if brute force could keep the nothingness away.
I was sad but I told her it was ok, that all would be well.
I said I would take care of it and of her…
But I lied.
I was just her friend with no power to stop her disease.
I felt guilty.
But there soon came a time when it really didn’t matter anymore.
She didn’t remember me.
I don’t remember her being so small…
It must have happened when I wasn’t looking.