My singular solitary existence of

Days filled with unfulfilled hopes, lost dreams.

A resignation of sorts

No expectations = no heartbreaks.

I can’t take yet another chance

No more, it’s not worth it.

Or is it?

Maybe with faith some forgotten hopes can be remembered

Maybe I can still see his face,

Feel his breath upon my neck,

Run my fingers through his

Beautiful silver hair.

The fantasy continues,

Death cannot stop this love.

Death cannot dissolve the truth,

The love, the tenderness.

Death took him from me

I cannot loosen its grip.

Death’s stronghold clouds my vision of him,

Makes it harder and harder to picture his face.

Harder and harder to hear his voice,

Feel his touch.

Death is a selfish thing,

Keeping him all to itself.

Unwilling to share

To let me see and remember.

It tries to convince me that I have lost

That he belongs to it now, but that is just another of death’s lies.

He is safe now, safe on the other side

Behind the vale, the boundary between these two worlds.

Death was only the vehicle to take him across,

It holds no power over him.

He speaks to me of our love

In my dreams.

He causes the wind to blow my hair

Across my face as if to imitate his hand.

I feel his light and strength in the darkness and

See his smile in the sunshine.

Yes, death has cheated me, has taken a part of my soul

Away and left me in sadness.

But its power is only in my letting,

My allowing, my perspective.

I can and will change that and death

Will no longer be a barrier to he and I

And someday I will take his hand once more

And together we will walk through the field,

Smell the milkweed blooms again and rest

In the tall grasses of peace and beauty

And death will have lost its final battle

And we shall be free.

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