Bekah Steimel

You’ve been gone for twelve years
and the grief only grows
winding and wrapping itself
like ivy
around my heart
around my life
choking me
maybe my grief
is more like a python
squeezing me to death
slowly
before devouring me whole
you’ve been bones and memories
for over a dark decade
and tears still slither
down my water-worn cheeks
at the mention of your name
a name
that now only belongs to strangers
I would double-dare death
if it meant
your wrinkled hand in mine
I’d cross or erase
whatever line separates us
you’ve been gone for twelve years
and my heart won’t let me heal