Missing

Obladee, oblada, life goes on . . .

—The Beatles

I think I will miss myself more than anyone else will.

I miss myself now when I wake in the night, too aware,

With my eyes pinned wide-open,

My nails in my palms,

Breathing the darkest of air,

And imagine the world going on,

And on and on and on,

And on

And on

And on

And me not there.

I think I will miss myself more than anyone else will,

Myself as a part of this world that holds all I hold dear.

Since they make no exceptions

The time will arrive

When it’s my turn to disappear,

And the world will keep going on,

And on

And on

And on.

How can the world still go on

If I’m not here?