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.