“Everything I love will die / in due time”

Nothing left but the wet decaying process of repetition, not you but something else; unheimlich; the body rigid though not yet cold;

failing to feel the ground beneath my feet trembling; I leave the room to try & force my fists & skull through a wall.

Sometimes I forget that you’re gone.

Sometimes I hate you for leaving,

but as you told me “c’est la vie: la tristesse sera fini bientôt,

mais je suis désolé mon enfant.”

Sometimes I forget your face & panic.

Sometimes I take solace knowing that now you’re nothing

& sometimes I can’t stand it.

My greatest regret will forever be not being there to see your final breath.

&

what I whispered to you when all energy had left will remain a secret I will keep forever…