Men don’t like to die in front of people

 My mom reminded me
That I have been 
Trying to remember different waters 
For years now. 
My ability to love
Wrapped up in my understanding of ocean
Vs lake vs river. 
I want the zithers of spring 
And a crush that’s
Sure, but I have
The shrug of winter
And fear of being left. 

Winter is something
About death. 
Choosing to exit life
When the brightness
Of a spouse fades. 
But spring could be
The bloom of that choice. 
My great uncle 
In perfect 100 year health
Let go after his
Wife let go
My grandfather only agreed to
Die when
My mom left the room
Would I let myself
Die under the loving
Gaze of others? 

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