I lit a small funeral fire for you tonight.
It was just an empty envelope, but I put a candle in a cupcake and poured out some of my root beer too. I don’t know. Making up rituals. Looking for meaning. I sat out in my backyard with you somehow and wrote a bit. I wrote about things I remember about you. Which is a lot because you haven’t been gone very long at all. As I watched the fire though I saw most of it burn. Two corners of the paper didn’t burn all the way through. You are gone, and while the pain of your absence is tremendous, it will fade. I do not fear its complete loss, however. I will not have to forget, and will remember you unflinchingly.
You were absolutely the most talkative person I know. And now you are ash on my patio. I’ve written so much to and about you and all I get are more tears. Dammit, dude. You were supposed to be okay.
Turn off, brain,
It’s time to go to sleep
It’s time to quit
And toward the silence creep.