I watched her die.
No, it wasn’t some violent scene

of gushing blood and torn inners,

But it was death the same.

Watching her walk to her mail

staggering at 9am,

hiding her bottles

under couches, in her

kitchen shelves.

 

at 37,

she was gone.

we saw the other side

(After we found her,

stiff as old cardboard

in the rain.)

God, what a shadow,

what she was

what she could do.

And we hated ourselves

for not trying

harder.

 

12 Oct 08

dlb

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