Going

Going

Gone.

The day that gavel struck my life, I knew what was coming.

Life seeping from your skin,

Age hollowing your bones.

But a smile that never faltered.

_Going once…_

I found you on the step—

Grinning so broadly it must’ve hurt.

_I know it did_.

Before I could ask you how long you’d been lying there,

you turned from me,

into the harsh winter air.

_Going twice…_

You told me not to worry,

even when it happened again.

This time I found you in the garden,

slipping on the soil,

the vivid crack of a flowerpot.

_Why are you still smiling?_

_Gone._

__

I searched for your smile until I lost mine.

Sitting at that headstone, marble white_, _running my fingers over its glossy contents.

Eyes rimmed red until all I could see was a flowerpot,

ahead of me,

the cracks glued together.

And I sat on that step.

Reenacting your falls.

Imitating your smiles.

While chasing your ghost, I became one myself.