Close Enough

No bad news thankfully, just good memories that evokes a sad feeling.

Photo by Evelyn Clement on Unsplash

In times of mourning,
I chase every shadow
belonging to no one
outside of a casket.
I claw at every memory
for a sign of what could
have been different
by divine intervention
or a deep dive into fire.
Daydreaming endlessly
inside of myself for hours
until I make myself believe
that maybe it could be years.
Like ripping the last page
of a story apart, until nothing 
but black letters remain, 
rearranging them does 
not extend the plot
but It's the closest
we can get to 
changing
the ending.  

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