I’ve been thinking about death

A lot

Lately

The aftertaste

And the slippery sensation

Of a life through fingers

Whats claimed

in an ending.

Its profound

But its not.

Simple equations

Of action

and reaction

Care taken

and odds managed,

What was the feeling of you?

Thats what I think

about most

Of all

A selfish kind of

desire

To be

that

person

Who is

missed

Who lived

big

Through small ways

An energy

That continues

to vibrate

In the people you

Shared air with

Once

Or more than

Once.

Instead of just

fading

Out.

Meaningless.

Its selfish.

And yet,

Its shaping a quieter

Formation

Of space

Inside my every

interaction.

I bring death with me

Like a box of sweet mints

A way to cope

With the souring of

What I have to

Swallow

Before I get there.