February 28, 2012
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So many faces,
all unsuccessfully trying to make me feel better.
How can I tell them?
I just want to be alone.

I sneak away
from the grabbing hands,
the suffocating hugs,
and hide in the room
set for the family
of the deceased.

Completely bare walls-
beige with a stupid flower print.
Blood-red table cloth
and a tray of bright Christmas Cookies.
They're supposed to make us feel better.
But only Mokie's cookies could do that.

All I want is to tell her goodbye.
To pick lavender together one more time.
To say "I love you"
one more time.

But I can't.
I will never pick lavender with my grandmother again.
I will never bake cookies with her again.
I will never get to tell her "I love you" again.
She is gone.
And I'm alone.

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