I realized in the cold dark dread

of a tossed turned tangled sheet

night

that I would die alone

I could have settled

married reproduced

kept touch with people

made friends kept some

just one or two maybe

but no

I'm in this alone

and it scares me

I have no where

to turn for help

I'm not apt to die not just yet

but know when I do no one

will come to cry shed a tear

or read poems

over

my burnt ashes