Photo by Mads Schmidt Rasmussen on Unsplash

i sat in a cold
damp
tiled
room
and suddenly death was looming
i felt him
i know i did
but-
he felt familiar.
i felt him wavering in the aging flowers in my garden,
i felt traces of him on a bird’s egg that i had found in my gutter,
i felt his embrace on each of my chickens before they were sold at the markets,
i felt him pull my love from me
through our clasped hands
through breathless confessions
her sunken eyes and cheeks had never looked so radiant
and yet,
i can’t go,
not yet. 
who else would live on for her?
who else would believe in her spirit?
who else would love her?
i sat
in a cold
dark
room
with death,
and ran.