Sam-I-Am 02-19-17

R.I.P.

One more month, and you'd have been gone a year.

I loved you then, I loved you still.

Time could not stop that.

Like an addict, I immersed myself with trivial follies,

Hoping to quell the sadness within. 

It worked, occasionally, halting my tears.

And when I couldn't help thinking of you,

I wound up on my knees in front of your grave.

The grave under the tree that was so carefully chosen for you.

The tree that held the birds that sang over your corpse.

The birds that you had loved while alive.

And not for the first time, I wondered about life after death.

About reincarnation, and about heaven and hell.

Would I see you again in this life?

Or would I have to wait until I was dead to glimpse you again?

Or, would I go through life-and death- with nothing but memories?

If I did meet you in this life, how would I know you apart from others?

If I had to wait until death, where would you be- Heaven or Hell?

And after my tears had freely fallen for the love we shared,

I pried myself away from your grave-site,

Returning to my addictive distractions,

To begin anew the cycle of falsified happiness.