Your name brings me comfort
All these year later
I say it to myself when I feel most alone

For then another presence enters the desolate space between my ears
Warmth and familiarity replace lack there of
And just for a moment, in a time where I am lost
I am reminded of when every aspect of my being felt fully known

The life of a poet lives on
through all their poems,
but the day I do depart,
I want to be cremated.

I will entrust family
and some fellow poets
to let my ashes sink
into some deep black ink.
And I'd want them to write
the stanzas I secretly saved
just for the occasion.

That way
they can say
that I put
all my heart
and my body
into poetry.
Literally.

My soul,
on the other hand,
would live on happily
as an eternal poet
having fun rhyming
while everyone's crying.
(and I'd wish they'd stop.)

You're like a safety pin.
Holding onto life for me
When i no longer can.