He told me
to start making preparations.
I listened as if it were about someone else,
the need to do this quickly, remain detached,
business-like, keeping eyes clear
while reading the fine print.
As the last ritual, I burned
everything left of him-
his letters, photographs, dried roses
inserted between the pages
of an old greeting card,
collected in a box.
At the end, I didn't even collect
the ashes.
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