I think what I have been trying to define is
that I can never be sure you died at all.
you've simply faded into a suspended state
of "somewhere else".
That small coffin
contained nothing but bone and flesh,
and you were always so much more than
bone and flesh,
so I am sure it could never have been you.
In the back of my head,
you're still sitting in front of the
sweltering living room fire,
a fresh glass of water by your side.
Perhaps you are simply not home when I visit.
Not available when I call.
You are not here, and I understand
that I will never see you again,
much like the death
I've been told occurred.
In the back of my head,
you are not here.
You are somewhere else.
I hope this somewhere is warm.
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 3:10 PM UTC
I think what I have been trying to define is
that I can never be sure you died at all.
you've simply faded into a suspended state
of "somewhere else".
That small coffin
contained nothing but bone and flesh,
and you were always so much more than
bone and flesh,
so I am sure it could never have been you.
In the back of my head,
you're still sitting in front of the
sweltering living room fire,
a fresh glass of water by your side.
Perhaps you are simply not home when I visit.
Not available when I call.
You are not here, and I understand
that I will never see you again,
much like the death
I've been told occurred.
In the back of my head,
you are not here.
You are somewhere else.
I hope this somewhere is warm.
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