Our Deaths

Our Deaths

We all have our own deaths to die.
They’re given to us when we’re born
But as soon set aside, like an heirloom
We’re too young to be trusted with,
Though, unlike heirlooms, 
They’re uniquely ours. 
Their like has never been seen before
And never will again. 
No one else can die our deaths for us.
The faraway look that appears 
In our eyes at the end
Means it’s coming closer,
Though when we reach for it
It disappears before we can touch it.
We don’t get to take it with us,
Nor does it get to stay behind.
Our deaths die when we die.
This is why only for the living
Is there such a thing as death.