An early departure,
you left this morning at 6 a.m.
Portland-bound
with a packed car,
tears from my eyes still moist on your neck.
We didn't even make love last night,
just let our bodies touch
skin to skin, a final time.
There are some zones too sacred
to enter in the face of upcoming loss.
It's now 11:00 a.m.
and though those tears dried up hours ago
the candle in my room is still lit.
If anything, you taught me how to grieve,
how true love never sits it out, not even
when it feels like hell to p(l)ay.
So I keep the wick aflame in order
to symbolize that which lingers and burns,
materializing the lessons
you so generously provided before driving away.
2 comments:
"...how true love never sits it out, not even when it feels like hell to p(l)ay..."
Those are words to keep on living by...
"a final time." Does that mean what I think?
Powerful piece. Thank you for putting your heart into this--into everything you write.
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