Death is the bee stings
that linger.
The ones you cannot
see or hope to hold.
The stings
that those who didn't die
still feel in waves of aching.
"But life isn't just death"
and neither is death more
than living.
I found the conundrum
when I wasn't looking for it.
I couldn't find my glasses
to see when I died.
They took them away
and reaching was out
of the question.
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