Marianne Díaz-Hernández

to come to terms with death you first must bargain,

beg for every single memory not to be taken away,

see them slip through your fingers like sand

-that smell, that look, that noise,

the softness of that touch-

cling to them like they’re everything you have

because they are,

because you’re in a raft made out of needles

in the middle of the unforgiving ocean

                  (some days i cry a little;

                  some days i cry a lot;

                  there isn’t a third kind of day

                  just yet)

to come to terms with death i have to grasp

the emptiness that is now

where your presence should be;

the remains of your absence scattered everywhere;

the unspeakable pain

from the lack of the weight of your body on my chest;

the silence

when i open the door;

all this love i don’t have where to put anymore

death looks me in the eye like an old friend and says:

you should have learned

to lose by now;

you should have learned

all i have to give to you

is this never-ending pain

that you’ll cling to for dear life

because it is the last thing

you have

from her.