My POetry: I Rehearse Your Death

I re-read the lines of the poem
They are not particularly sad
Or good,
But I imagine the words spilling,

Like tears, from my lips
As I say goodbye.

I do this often, even when
The words aren't special,
The meaning unpure,
The setting uninspiring.
Still I search for the text

To understand what you meant to me.

Which might explain how I feel
As you lay before me
Skin stiffening like cooling wax
In silk lined pine box.
I do this because...

Because one day
It will not be a rehearsal

On commute back home.
Preparation so when
The call comes

I will still be able to breathe.

Blunt sword that carves
A piece of my happiness
From my mouth, 

My cheek, my day

With a stranger’s soft musing.

I re-read the lines of the poem
And think, I will call
You again soon enough
Just to make sure you're alright
While I still can.