Looking Up

I won't stop looking up, not anymore
now that I've seen the sky's many faces
and searched for you in clouds
as endless as my sorrow.
The birds know a secret,
leaving me out, trapped
in this terrestrial prison
tied to the Earth by gravity
my heavy body refusing to shed weight
I hate it here.
I hate pretending days matter,
things matter,
work matters
as if that could stop the grief.
Nothing matters.
When you exhaled for the last time,
eyes opening wide,
looking at me,
your hand already cold
It all stopped mattering
and I stopped pretending.
We won't outrun death
I don't want to.
Death is my beginning.