Found myself thinking of those last days.
You in bed and me at your side
Feeding you, putting vaseline on your dry lips
Bringing the water cup to your mouth for a sip
Wish I had said more.
You taught me how to shut down so long ago
That I couldn't break free when it mattered
Learned all that from you
And now it is tearing me up
Don't remember when exactly you slipped away
Or what the last words were, yours or mine
Kept dying a secret as long as you could
Until you finally gave out
Now I don't know what to do with these feelings
My emptiness is now so very empty
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I feel like a complete jerk saying this is an excellent poem because I want to respond to the feeling in it - but that is part of what makes it an excellent poem, that the reader (hello) responds to the feeling as I do now, responding personally, finding myself reflecting on my experiences more honestly through the words and feeling here. Honesty leads to more honesty. Feeling leads to feeling. The feeling in this poem, it just works - not just because of the word choice or the restraint. The feeling plus the words chosen plus the courage to be honest makes this a real poem. I think, well I believe the kindness in your actions and your being and who you are communicated what you couldn't say. Yes, I know my words sound pretty simplistic but sometimes honest feeling sounds pretty simplistic.
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