Septic Shock

An Ode, to the vessels that have perished long before their given expiration date. Your heart, an invaluable capsule I thank for sustaining your existence here for as long as it would. Your brain, for it’s perfect way of giving you the choices to be whatever evil you ever felt but still seeking goodness, every time.

I had a dream, of course. We were all at home for a Sunday night. It was a close call, but you made it, my mind wandered into pretending again if you had stayed. That kind of close shave that leaves you with almost intolerable razor burn, we all agreed. Too close. A rhythmic back and fourth of things we all would have missed about you occurred, and a pinch of a joke or two.

“Would you have been pissed if I took your xbox?”

Laughs ensued. You seemed so light, so unfazed by the ‘close call’.

Last wishes and pleads to you soon ensued amongst the table. Some of us done eating, some of us standing. I looked at you, to my left arms length and I said I would of missed your voice the most.

I just wanted to hear you sigh or breathe, allowing a fragment of your ballad to spoil us.

Your eyes seeped pain. An expression I have never seen before on you, so I knew or… maybe hoped it was not a predisposition to be pacified by the presence of you. But, maybe that I was really seeing it for the first time, not just in the archive for my subconscious to trick my brain with.