Yesterday Marked Five Years Gone (RIP, Dad)

THE DEAD DON’T SPEAK

The dead don’t speak to me in signs or dreams.
I long for them to let me know they’re there.
The living aren’t concerned. I’m caught between.
No place feels like home, and this despair
Grows greater every day. Why do I care
To keep alive these memories of the dead?
Perhaps I should try living well instead.

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