I am separated
from the only person left
who shares my memories

Separated
by an ocean of ego
and grief

And I’m not sad about it…

I am angry.

Same side
of different coins,
no reconciliation,
no peace.

But I make my own peace
this state of being
so familiar:

Unclaimed.
Unanchored.
Unowned.

My life,
unfocused –
a photo album
from another place,
a time and space
that lives only in my
head.

Faces I knew
names that almost come
then don’t
Memories that fast-fade
Into oblivion.

I wonder
who will mourn me and
if mourning needs a witness
or if memory simply
goes
when I am
gone.