On the 5th year of your death

 This is the 5th year of your death, Fer

And as much as I'd like to revel in my own grief

I can't help but think and say how sorry I am

I am so sorry for the petty fights

I am so sorry for being such a bitch sometimes

I am so sorry for treating you in  a way thar

Wasn't worthy of your unequivocal devotion to me

I am so grateful for you and for your love

I am so resentful of your abandonment

And I am so so so angry all the time

It's the 5th anniversary of your death 

Still my mind reels with the absolute conviction

That you should not be dead

You should be celebrating your remission

This would've been the year in which you'd be

Cancer free, schackles undone

But I am here and you are in the nether

You are in the never

Of Neverland, where the years will not age you

You are perfectly still as a memory

As a box of ashes 

As the consequence of burnt bones

My love, you are still a flaming bonfire

And I am the firewood that will keep you

Burning

Aching

Existing in a little box of ashes

And in every single one of my moments

Because I bear the duty of the living

But I still see a world in which you are

Here

As I am

I am here, and I do not wish that loneliness

Not to you, Fer, not to anyone

We would be celebrating

We would be absolutely unstoppable

Except you have stopped five years ago

And your death, love, it swallowed me

Whole.