(& no, it was not like Martin Luther King, Jr.).
I had a dream that you had died
And I was still here.
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
So instead you said hello to a place I could never go.
You would think that I would have felt something-
Known that you had just let go.
Perhaps a tugging in my chest would have signaled
The pulling of strings-
The undoing of us.

But no,
I felt nothing
(just like you do now).

I didn't even have time to process or mourn properly
(if there is even such a thing)
Because the next frame was your funeral.
I sat in a pew in the back
And I couldn't remember if I was wearing the black dress you'd liked.
People were telling stories
Of who you were and what you did,
But I couldn't handle it.
I didn't want to hear about was and when and were.
I wanted to hear you.