(no subject)
And here I am, here you are
Like a porcelain doll, surrounded by bitter whispers
And a fractured lineage; bound together in this ménage,
Separated by silence, time, and distance
These memoirs, and vivid memories, renew your beauty
Even after your era has passed; Elegant, even in rest
A picture on the mantel reclaims your youth
Instills a fear of age, of death; of life slipping away
But what of recognizing life through death?
Acknowledging an irreplaceable essence, a salvation in itself!
Yet, so vulnerable…
But oh, what of the reverse
To mend the wounds, the trauma that death inflicts…
Dearest friend, dearest cousin
I wish I could offer you solace
Or the correct words, at least
But where are words when there is only
Maladroit silence, pain in the air
…So still, yet aching discord around you
Briny wet tears, alkalizing, caustic
You cling to my shoulder, and the channels swell
Overflowing and dripping onto austere carpets
I want to draw the pain out of this moment,
Whitewash this existence that is life
But no; it is raw, naked
Acrid, and severe
And there is no cure, to what we experience here
But in a world separated by decease
We have existence
In that, we are relieved, we find comfort
We repair, renew, and recover
Regenerating and revitalizing your aching heart strings
And I am right here beside you
I will always be that shoulder
I love you