Parting words...

I am no good with words. 

That’s not true. I am. 

Just not the right ones. 

The ones that mean things. 

Color, light, the breeze 

in summer. The smell of burning

leaves or new snow. 

These are not the words I am looking

for. They’re words for things we already

know. Words for things we see

and touch and smell.

Not for things we feel. Like death

and dying from boredom 

in the middle of the night

because life will never be interesting

again. Like the Nothing 

that pervades me, 

spreading outward from my chest. 

Like the fear of dying.