Death

death has become a trigger word
and i say everything to avoid it
call it sleeping instead
it sounds less final that way 
as though there is still the opportunity to wake
but instead they choose to rest

i visited my father's grave
took me a while to find it
camouflaged in a sea of names 
when these people become long-forgotten
their names still shine shamelessly from the stone 
like rebellion against the finality of death
one final attempt to remain alive
no matter how we kick and fight
it all ends the same

i always bring the same flowers
to my father's grave 
yellow roses
my favourite colour
i arrange them all neatly 
and scatter a handful of petals 
into the grass that covers the man i should've known
for more than five years

yellow has always been my favourite 
i consider the petals a piece of myself
to stay with him when i cannot
so he may feel loved

it all feels so familiar
laying beside him 
except now
i cannot stop crying 

death 
is final
i cannot bring him back
but i will continue to bring him yellow roses
we will stay together
until it is my turn
to fall asleep.

16:47pm - 16/06/23.