I had words caught like flies
The fear, a web thick in my spider’s throat
My child brain fooling my age
that I’d have some time
–always another opportunity
to be.
But human frailty is an ugly thing
That I thought I could ignore it in icy indifference
(I am not capable of such)
You see,
this heart of mine is warm and dripping with emotion and un-numbed pain
It crashes over my frame in blood-waves,
guilty of still being here and alive…
While you, my friend, no longer are.
O’ how I regret as I never have before
Mortality has never felt so close
Not even at “mid-life”
and yet a crisis of a heart-wreck
a train of tears besmeared my gown
My daughter, like the maid, keeps straightening and primping
with Kleenex.
As if wiping away the evidence that I feel
would change the fact that your death
has stopped my inner world.
Outer keeps spinning.
Altogether.
…
I never got to say a proper goodbye
On the phone, you rushed off to go use the bathroom.
The package you sent never came, but if it does, I will likely loose
it.
–cue Kleenex yet again–
Oh my dear,
Could I claim that I loved you “best of all”?
I wish I had loved you better.
I thought I had time.
I didn’t.
Claire Florine Writes 