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The beauty in pain
Comes from
knowing it will end
Like everything ends
As he used to say when I tried
To sneak the last page of the novel:
Everyone dies
In the end

The beauty in loss
Comes from small items
Left behind
A solitary napkin
That wrapped the last gift
She ever gave me

The beauty in anger
Comes from not accepting
The pain or the loss
Even the beautiful parts
It is the beauty of power
to confront the universe
to demand
to demand
to demand
Even though no one
ever
answers

on the anniversary of Lynn’s death

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