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Dedicated to all those who have lost

Dear _______

I still walk in and call your name. Am shocked by the silence, bereft at how hollow it sounds.

If I had known that was

your last wave, last smile

I’d have pressed them. Each finger a petal, your lips unfurled buds.

That morning I left you; your feet curled on the lip of our desk, phone to one ear, pen clamped between teeth.

When I cut you down,

your skin was still warm,

blood blue in veins.

Your final words: “Don’t worry about it”; my delay blown away like an errant eyelash.

63 minutes is all it took

for me to get home,

A fraction of time, but 3,780 seconds I’ll always regret.

Years not even lived I already dread. I look there now and see you, a husk dancing on air.

Yours always,