Almost every night, I dream of you.
Sometimes, you’re larger than you were
in life,
like a hundred pounds more,
yet finally light.
…
I’m absorbing new mornings,
but grief is a slow teach
of grace.
Forgiving myself for unused words
and everything I didn’t know
is a dying to perfection.
I’m sorry I never told you,
“I love you”.
…
Can I dream
to keep time from stealing
my memory of you?
How sharply
I still remember your voice,
your volume.
How deeply
I’m afraid to forget.
…
Can I dream
of another last day with you?
What all would we do?
What all would we say?
Would it all be enough
to comfort the reality of loss?

This is beautiful
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Thank you, Isaiah 😊
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