I would that my last word was your name,
for all the music left in me is about us
Surely, we were part of some other timeline;
not this one, where I watch kids grow
without you
Your kiss is something I once imagined;
now all that’s left to me is imagining it
The memory of it grows but further
from the reality, I’m aware,
though I take such great pains
to prevent that happening
And for what?
To hold a pillow in place of you?
To swallow the past like medicine?
To hold my breath in the half-light
of this half-life?
What good does that do anyone?
Sleep, my sweet, wherever you are
Please dream that I might wake you
And if ever I get that improbable chance,
I’ll afford you more than an ending
I’ll restore what time has taken from us;
every word leading up to the last
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