dearly beloved

these days
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
and sometimes,
my heart forgets to beat.

it's funny,
i suppose—

how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
destroyed four.

you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
filthy world,
you came to an end.

the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.

but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
feels like.