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six stages

In Spanish, the word for meeting is reunión

And it turns out that is also

the sixth stage of grieving


In the first six months I found myself in denial

Weekends spent in a haze of whiskey

Calling, deleting, repeating your number

until the heat of summer died down

and with it, my body cooled


Then came the anger

red, like a tidal wave

red, like my blood

red, like your name

Furious from dawn to dusk


In the second year I found myself bargaining

Just to see you, one last time

to sever the final tie binding us

Just to see you, one more time

to be set free at last


Then came the depression

blue, like the river separating us

blue, like the ice in my chest

blue, like the sky between

where I was and where you ended up


In the third year I accepted

that you lived only in my head

that I was happy now

that there was no tie binding us

that I would not see you one last time


Then you returned

And for my final stage of grief

I was filled with yellow

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