you are not dead yet.
still, i hope to mourn you someday—
a better version of you, at least.
i read somewhere,
"i alter you
every time
i remember you".
i hope to remember you well—
not much, not often.
sometimes i hope
i won't remember you at all.
the child in me grieves and stirs,
and tantrums at the thought.
there must be a part of you
worth remembering,
or maybe a whole lot of you
worth forgetting.
something to be salvaged.
you are not dead yet,
but i mourn you in life.
guilt boils in my stomach,
and you've fallen asleep on the couch.
i must remember
to turn off the stove.
i must remember
you are not the version of you
i feel guilty for.
i try to think of her,
but think of you.
i try to think of you,
but i get her.
and i stir the *** long enough
to remember to turn the stove off.
you are not the version of you
i feel guilty for.
you are not dead—
not yet.
Dec 25, 2025
Dec 25, 2025 at 10:44 PM UTC
you are not dead yet.
still, i hope to mourn you someday—
a better version of you, at least.
i read somewhere,
"i alter you
every time
i remember you".
i hope to remember you well—
not much, not often.
sometimes i hope
i won't remember you at all.
the child in me grieves and stirs,
and tantrums at the thought.
there must be a part of you
worth remembering,
or maybe a whole lot of you
worth forgetting.
something to be salvaged.
you are not dead yet,
but i mourn you in life.
guilt boils in my stomach,
and you've fallen asleep on the couch.
i must remember
to turn off the stove.
i must remember
you are not the version of you
i feel guilty for.
i try to think of her,
but think of you.
i try to think of you,
but i get her.
and i stir the *** long enough
to remember to turn the stove off.
you are not the version of you
i feel guilty for.
you are not dead—
not yet.