no, tides won’t bring you back to me

the bright glare of the moon does nothing to soften the pale and sallow skin of those below us
the coroner has reached the limits of his ability to stave off decay
and now we all gather here at two oblong holes
to see off the bodies of those whose souls have already left us

the pastor that Yasmin’s mother requested says some long eulogy
as she releases an ocean kneeling near the box that holds her last remaining daughter
for her son is only a few years old
and won’t ever have the privilege of knowing a full family

Constance’s parents are there too
both of their hands on my shoulders as I brazenly stare into the distance
too numb to process much emotion
let alone muster up some tears from a long-ago dried up well

and as I close the lids when the time comes
I sneak one last glance at the boy who still holds my heart
and turn away as they’re ushered to an empty fate
six feet deep but not nearly deep enough to fill the wastes of the futures both of them held

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