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.