People die, don’t they?
Most of the time, you don’t know them—
so you don’t hear about it.

But sometimes, you know who died.
You receive a message,
you read it,
you don’t digest it.

You send some messages,
not because you want to,
but because you have to.
You make people sad,
you make them relive that moment—
not because you want to,
but because you have to.

There’s the you on autopilot,
following what must be done.
And the you in the coffee shop,
reading a book,
sipping hot chocolate,
as if no one died today.

No one you know.
Not yet.

The sweetness fades.
The weight arrives.

You wonder if you truly knew her favorite color,
Her favorite moment,
What she would have wished for

Perhaps not this.
Not like this.
Not today.

I always cry, cry every night
You think I'm good, I'm not alright
The good days are about to end
My lifeline is about to bend
I'd be the chill guy, I cannot
This love has made my brain go rot
The void is eating me alive
Nobody'll give me a high-five
Nobody'll say to me "Hello!"
I won't be here, I'll be below

A tragedy
haunting
of the ropes,
swampy waters,
spiritedly,
deeply inspires,
feathering
of once
the physical
of sweet toes,
and that delicate
softness,
like the taste,
of ice-cream,
so white is her snow.
Vanilla is the masses,
her individuality
was strawberry swirl
with hard set chocolate,
grace is her ghostly twirls.....

He continues to tend to her garden,
long after her final gasp of breathe,
Past the gate, keys to the warden
lies in pockets once of mischief,
sneaking up to grab her profoundly,
rolls in the vivid greens and roses.
Memories become fractured like glass,
and mornings a struggle to rise,
and yet he continues to attend mass
until he too passes the reaper's price.

The beauty of passion
cannot be trapped
like the stirring of bees,
hypnotized by the honey
on the budding of flowers
now slowly trapped to die....
in a jar with air tight holes.

As I lay her down to rest,
a gentle kiss above her eyebrows,
fading eyes of pure light
washes but has no comfort for me.
My home was her beating *****,
Found embrace in her sweet hands,
no longer warm but icy cold,
and failing to grasp....

I will love you through
Life
Grief
Sickness
And
Death

And when I die
I will love you
Still

“I felt there was no
point in telling
anyone anything
that was happening
inside of me.”

Once I saw that,
I felt my purpose in
life had been fulfilled.

Once I realised that
I may be the main character
in my life and the background
in someone else’s, I rejoiced.
The “someone else” being my
best friend.

Once I know that I will depart their lives in either one day or one year, life becomes so much easier.

The rain comes swiftly,
To mourn the loss of another tonight.
Tears from Heaven,
Falling to Earth.
It pours down from the sky,
Drowning out the whimpers of the grieving few.
Was it really just yesterday,
You said you were far too young to die.
I think God agrees,
He keeps the gravediggers,
From laying you in the ground.
Rochester is a sanctum of sadness,
Even though few will ever feel the lose of you.