Though Joy Departs

I can still hear the sound of her voice.
A distinct memory
of the way her words ended
in a soft croak,
like leather
being tightened against leather.

It was calming, textured.

I can still see the wrinkles
around her eyes. Wild
details, punctuating every curiosity.
Like spiderwebs
once taught to snare,
now wilted and pleasant.

They were calming, textured.

I can still feel the giving
of her smallish body in my arms.
Full, fallow breasts in which to harbor
a slowing, peaceful heart.
Like couch cushions out of place,
now needing to be laid down
to provide comfort for others.

They were calming, textured.

And

while you this world is now without,
I break all oaths to fearful doubt,
though joy departs in present bout,
some semblance of sunshine singes a sad eye,
for you have known me all throughout.





I love you Megan.
And dammit I miss you.