By. Lauren

I remember touching his hand.
You asked me if he felt dead.
If he felt cold.
Numb.
You said I would feel sad.
Like I had lost a part of myself.
Yet I felt alive.
Like nothing had gone missing.
No need for searching.
When I touched his hand I felt the loss of blood.
The lack of emotions.
Like there was no one.
Yet I stayed calm.
It was as if I never knew him to be alive.
It was all the same.
The hand did not change.
From free to casket nothing was different.
He was only gone.
Only dead.
But was he ever alive to begin with?