༺ Finger Writing ༻

the death was years ago
my God how long has it been?
decades anyway
I don’t know
when the anniversary comes around
i get increasingly tense
in the few weeks before
and often wonder
why i can’t remember
the funeral

so how do i fill these days?
hard to say
hard to describe
a nondescript drifting
a groping through greyness
a searching
for something to satisfy
a seeking
after something real

there are tons of stories
that make it sound
all glamorous and sexy
about being dead
but mostly
it’s really boring
mostly
all the philosophising
is inconclusive

thoughts and feelings
still keep happening
but i’m not sure
who they are happening to
exactly

is it the guy who fell?
there was a sudden rush
into blackness
a confrontation
with the abyss

maybe it was the woman?
she rushed to help
and cradled a body
forgetting
they were supposed
to have split up

or the other guy perhaps?
sore rope-ripped hands
sprinting for help
on painful feet

both those guys
loved that woman
she loved the fallen one
but they fought
way too much
to stay together

all that scene
is on the other side
of a veil
where things happened
to characters
who had actual lives
a place
where people knew each other
and often said things like
“hi!”
and “what’s that?”
and “i love you!”

i miss it
but if i’m honest
i can’t expect people
to talk to me
when i’m invisible