I used to stay up at night thinking about Death. And id ended up with salty tears running down my face.
I kept forgetting she wasn't there. And I regret not giving it to her. I was selfish.
Fuck. Why did I leave?
I couldn't hold her hand for to long. Everyone said we had the same hands. That when they saw her at the hospital her hands were so beautiful... When I think about my hands, I think about hers, when she was dying.
She would pull on the strings that kept her with us. Saying she no longer wanted to be here. I was at the end of her bed. I choked on my sobs and she looked at me.
I took her presence for granted. I remember when she sat at the computer. At her rocking chair. The
Chair at the end of the table. Always with both hands on a cup of black coffee. And I miss her.
I wish I would have spent more time with her. But I was selfish. I hate myself for being so. And I wish I'd dream of her. Because maybe with the dreams I wouldn't feel so lost and empty. I wish I could go back
But I think Death knows I was selfish.
