Ausnahmezustand | grief poetry

your death never leaves

the empty seat next to me

when I let my body remember you

your death doesn’t mean a thing

you lied in superlatives

no emotion seems real

your deathbed is your slaughterhouse

and I stay to soften your loneliness

and I watch your face sinking one into another

I watch you choke, your eyes roll

in the name of something unnameable

on the diluted edge of love

I watch you, in their professional opinion, not feel a thing

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2023 | Instagram: croque_melpomene

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