Conversations with a Dead Man

He said -
Dying was like a mouthful of bitter coco powder,
with no water when you really wanted Belgium chocolate.
You choke on the last escaping breath,
as if your diaphram can pull it back in.
Then your eyes come unglued, drifting
out of the sockets, looking down at yourself.
You can see all your lines, scars, tells -
looking up at you as you look at them.

He said -
Watching me was the most fun he's had
since he's been dead.
My lines, scars, tells are blinded -
as I am to them.
There are no rejecting echoes
or criticisms seeping from my skin.

He said -
He would be content to stay with me.
I am a good listener.
When I sleep, with my eyes closed,
I look peaceful,
like he once imagined dying.