we were spending
a lazy sunday
lounging in bed
when the call came
that he was dead

it’s funny
knowing someone is dying
yet how shocked
the news of their passing
still manages to be

i wish i had started
spilling my guts
to this uncaring world
that morning
when i found out he died

instead it destroyed me
a tape worm in
the back of my brain
eating happiness
leaving nothing but madness

it has been seventeen years
since the morning
the barely held together
fully embraced
falling completely apart

just over three years ago
i wrote my first poem
in a decade plus
since then i haven’t missed
a single day of sorrow

now lazy sunday mornings
carry a hint of nerves
when the phone buzzes
as i lay here alone
writing another shitty ode