On the Anniversary of My Death

The 19th of May 2002. I died a
certain death. You killed me. You,
the man I didn't trust but had no
choice except to. You broke not
only my skull but my spirit and my
soul, for at least a hundred years.

Today. The 19th of May 2023. I sit
adjourn to you. Why? I ask myself.
I don't know. I'm almost pleased at
the thought of your death, I think. No,
I correct myself. I couldn't be. I still
don't know that you weren't pleased
about mine.

What I do know is that neither of us
asked for this. You didn't want to break
my skull nor do I want your chest cavity
sawed open.

The difference is you made a choice. I
was endowed with a burden, that came
wrapped in a deceptive silk bow. In it
three adjoining parts;
                         forgiveness,
                                  responsibility,
and the smallest but strongest called
                                                          love.