Your deep sounding laughter woke me. It’s been a year, two and a part of you is stuck here with me. I don’t or not. Before death did us part or not. I can’t shake your half away. That we were one is still true. The inked signatures on black and white sheets changed nothing. My illusion of breathing better without you is laughable. Father said no. He said we shouldn’t put asunder. We should have fought for it. I could have pointed you to it. Now I can’t shove my fifty of you away. It’s both joy and pain living with you.
Stuck with your half,