x-ray vision

he told me about a picture he saw at school. “it was an x-ray.” i think of him so little in his hospital gown worried that i couldn’t be in the room with him as they looked at his lungs with x-ray vision.

“it was an x-ray of a heart that was broken, momma. it had a big crack in the middle of it.”

silence.

“can a heart break, momma?”

i lie.
i say no.
“it’s not possible for a heart to break like that.”

not like that anyways, i think to myself. not a cartoonish zigzag line breaking solid pieces in two. one day i imagine he’ll remember that i lied to him when he feels that pain. it will feel like it’s broken. and that it won’t ever feel whole again.

but it heals. i’m not sure how. it’s not like we are salty starfish able to grow more legs. but a heart mends and somehow grows bigger because of the break.

and this time i won’t be lying.

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