Jenga

It never goes away.
That hole that you left... It never goes away.
It's like there's a key jenga piece permanently missing.
The tower wobbles and we can do nothing about it. Other pieces are akilter and may fall and we can only do so much. Taking that piece out made the whole tower unstable and it wasn't your turn to take a piece. It wasn't your turn, and it wasn't your call. Now, the piece is gone never to return. The tower will never be the same and one day, it may come crumbling down even if we don't touch it; All because of you and your selfishness and poor judgment. Now the tower will fall because of you.

I still cry at night because of you, and I'm not the only one. Death is now treacherous and terrifying, and work is nerve racking because you made me nervous and paranoid that everyone else is going to pull their pieces out of the tower too. Every piece in that tower was important--every last one. Now there's a hole because you couldn't wait and you didn't see how important your piece was.

We think of you, and the tower wobbles. We try hard to learn that a wobbly tower just means that we have to work a little harder to keep everything stable, but sometimes some of us wouldn't care if the whole tower were to collapse, spilling little blocks of wood everywhere in chaos.

You never thought you would be the cause of chaos, you never thought anyone would miss you, you never thought I would have a hard time going into a bead shop, you never thought others around would look at a light fixture and a belt as a way out, you never thought. You never thought, and because you didn't, I have to hold this fucking tower together; I have to help people see what would happen to the tower if they took their pieces out; I have to do this all day and then come home and go to bed, where, sometimes the only thing I can think about as I drift off to sleep is that hole you left. It really never goes away.