Daffodils and Greenways…

I once heard that daffodils signify a place where someone once lived. 

I feel like there will be daffodils growing by or in my heart forever missing the place I held there for my friend. 

I once read a Persian poem that read جای تو سبز است —which means a person’s place is green in the place they should still be. 

I never thought or believed there would be a place that was green in my soul for any friend until their or my death. 

But instead a worse death—this. I can’t stop crying. 

This is worse than a death. 

So much worse. 

An end?

It can be reversed. 

Fixed. 

Mended. 

Fill in the blank with the verb, but not the verb, oh not this one: end. 

This place is green—empty, there is a dark shadow cast over it, 

I supposed a sage poet might write. 

And I can’t shake this sadness. 

I’ll never understand this. 

This hurts way way too much. 

I don’t want this pain. 

I don’t want it to be this way. 

This grief is too heavy. 

And I feel so alone my mind trying to make sense and keep my head above water. 

Take this away. 

Don’t do this, okay? 

The daffodils and greenways are gorgeous, 

but shouldn’t be grieved, mourned. 

They only should be enjoyed through the years with you my friend.