Digging you up again.

I remember the way you used to smile.
It would start cautiously, like a thought, and a moment after, it would break like a wave, and wash over everyone.
Your eyes would flash, your teeth equally white.
Everyone wanted you but you.
And I'm so sorry you died.

I remember the way you used to laugh.
It would crack open like a pop can, filling the air with mirth and infecting all in attendance in the same way a virus does, only much faster moving, and a great deal more welcome.
Like if Gucci did virii- designer malaise.
But you didn't laugh when you wore your last tie.
And I'm so sorry you died.

I remember, most of all, your warmth.
Your easy company, your gentle peace. The way you could transmit contentedness like a radio wave, so all the people in your vicinity could tune in and roll on your emotional selection.
You were a beacon of calm in an otherwise tempestuous sea.
And I'm so sorry you died.

I remember you all again tonight, from straight out of the blue.
I was doing laundry when it occurred to me, that smile, that laugh, that warmth.
And I felt so guilty, for not thinking of you all more often.
I was occupying myself with life...with the thing you all lack, and can never have again.

I don't know where any of you are buried, I doubt I'll ever stand at your graves.
So this choking, rising lump inside stays with me like take out. I can have it at home.

A convenient kind of desperate loss, a no-fuss kind of mourning.

And the worst part is, I think that if you were all alive, we'd probably have drifted long apart by now...we wouldn't talk, or stay in touch. And so, just as in the past, I wouldn't know your respective grief.

Leaving you open once again, to die at your own hands.

I am so very sorry, that you died.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.