vitiligo

beautiful boy
you are gone
but I will not
let you die.

the sickness of death
so heavy
the black rain winds
that so many others have written

would be easy
to concentrate on.

my friend,
you were not sickness
but for a tarnished
group of moments.

the pain of your absence,
leaves us open-surgery hearts.
but the steadfastness
of your soul

pumps scarlet blood
to each fingertip.

still you sit
underneath my window,
your breathing turned to droplets
laughing so hard

the cigarettes fell out
of our mouths.
still we dance
for hours and hours

to average white-boy beats
(I always knew you could make better).

you could never
vanish from existence.
how implausible
to imagine.

as if
your vitiligo arms
could cease to be
in the world.

no, they are here.
just as the rest of you is here.

beautiful boy,
I will not let you be gone.
because the world is too small
without you.

the vigor of life
so light
does not matter.
you have only slipped away

into the next room.
and so it will continue to be

until I see you again.

happy 25th birthday finn

(I used a line from the Henry Scott Holland poem “death is nothing at all” that bears some relevance here. points if you can find it)

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