Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

Your Last

I hope your last emotion wasn’t fear.
Did you see it coming?
I hope your last sight wasn’t the glaring headlights.
Did you run?

I hope your last touch wasn’t the hard metal
Nor the rough pavement against your cheek

I hope the last thing you heard wasn’t the roar of the engine
Nor your roommate shrilly screaming your name.

I hope your last taste wasn’t the blood that flooded your mouth.
Did it choke you?
I hope your last smell wasn’t the burning rubber when the truck left you behind
Did you suffer?

I hope you didn’t.

© 2016 Vic Romero

My cousin was killed crossing the street on 3 September 2016.

Twenty years with you doesn’t feel like enough time, but I’m grateful to at least have that. Chris, thank you for being my big sister, I love you. RIP.

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