Tagged: death

every moment, a

the first day of the

the first day of the
rest of our lives starts like a
simple bouquet – matched

and mismatched, friends and family,
until death do us part

we borrow life for

perhaps months,

perhaps months,
years from now, these
days will become
foggy, it’s how our
minds insist on
playing games with
our hearts – now you see
me, now you don’t

we have no choice as
witnesses, obligated
to make out every
fine detail in the
heightened haze

forty-three hours have

forty-three hours have
passed since we lost you. i hide
the details
from my-

self, don’t get too close to the
edges for fear of falling

remember that year

remember that year
when we lost so
many… was the
joy ever worth
the long
aches afterwards?
everyone tries
these words
in their mouths
many times before
spitting them out.
they’re unswallowable
by any muscles
so the human spirit
keeps taking the bait

all day, i keep

all day, i keep
forgetting that you
left us this morning,
and even now, when
i quiet my heart to
take in the news, i
hear old news, when
you called eight years
ago to say that he’s
gone, and do not be
sad, it was so peaceful,
you were reading to him
as he sat in his favorite
chair, and then
you were reading.
tonight, i am not ready
for the details just yet.
there are no brave
messengers. you are
gone, but not yet gone