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Diz is dead.
Put down in care after an illness and a stroke.
No strokes from me; he died by injection on Monday. My precious rehab too important to interrupt.
I didn't know when I told them not to tell me how he was, back in September.
I thought I might be bothered with tales of sniffles while I was trying to give us a future.
Instead my only success, my only good thing died with a stranger.
I know I wrote him in a bad light. So often.
But my second purchase out of rehab was catfood (1st was my bus ticket)
He died without me and how can I forgive that?
Nothing's right I'm torn.
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