Cold Fingers in a Locked Car

Let me take a moment to go back to those minutes

I thought of finding your body

I thought of finding you breathing

I thought of a way to pump your stomach

I thought of you standing

I thought of what

I could say

I thought of cold fingers in a locked car

I followed a pair of footprints I knew where several days too old because I believed that maybe by hope they would lead to you, standing with an alarming gaze across the lake

But as past prints crest the small hill, I imagined, in shock, your figure slumped

You, after all the clues, and 28 desperate hours

(We were both born on the 28th and do you remember when you said it was a royal number?)

Left me with words like the dagger we wanted and

Was I supposed to drink the poison too?

I’m sorry, near death is lost on me

-Thank you for your support in all forms, it means the world to me-