Six years ago we smiled and talked anew of hammer drills and trucks, the grand design and beloved demons. Two hundred miles changed everything. It’s weird how I felt nothing when your heart stopped.
How the steady pulse of rain on road still travels through dark hands.
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forget me now 
Having read your explanation above, makes your writing even more stark and haunting. I’m truly sorry for this loss of friend.
Ohh thank you for reading this, bohemienne. In my typically obstruse way, i was anniversarising someone who meant a cosmos or two to me. He died while i drove those 200 miles. I don’t believe in death, not as a finality, but still … sometimes it makes me sad too.
This made me sad. Distance can change everything.