funerals for the living

it becomes very easy to feel very alone
when the sun sets so early.
last year he wasn't.
him being me.

i can't remember exactly when i lost him.
sometime in the winter i suppose, when the silence of the cold began to ring like a flatline.

somewhere in an office building
a woman asks a boy a question.

how many days do you think you've been dead?

a thoughtful look, a knowing smile.

oh i don't know,
too many to count.
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