i think there is just a part of me
that aches
that longs
that wishes
for just one more moment with you.
but something like that can't be
woven into existence
wished into reality
or spoken into presence
because it is something that just can't be.
there will never be another moment with you
to have
to cherish
to remember
because you're not here anymore.
i read in a book today that his dad had been absent
out of mind
gone from reality
for a long time before he died.
and sometimes i just wonder how long you were
absent
out of mind
gone from reality
before you finally let go.
i wonder how many times i had talked to you
and how many times my words fell on dead ears
and how many times my eyes looked into the window of your already forgotten soul
and how many times i did these things without even realizing.
because that's what they say about death:
it's finite.
but it isn't, really, is it?
it drags on.
it isn't something that happens at once,
no,
not in my experience at all.
it drags on.
there are months before when it all seems
to crumble
to fall
to die
but it drags on.
it drags on
as if death herself is waiting
for the moment that you are dead enough
before she will take you.
it drags on.
it never stops
the hurting
the aching
the longing.
it isn't finite.
nothing is.
(i miss you.)
