Photo by Paul Kline

Shrouded silhouette
against the evening light
Nicotine swirls
in the air
Yesterday’s newspapers
litter the stairs

Shackled by integrity
Devoted pilgrim
High-flyer in
the angel stakes, yet
hurt bloomed
like a bruise

Left bereft by
a broken circle of blood
Your thoughts
now confined
to a mound of earth
that bears your name

Exalted grave
made anonymous
by rows of white rock
You lay in a bed of worms
a hundred miles away
from aching loss

Worn cotton sheets
bear your imprint still
A home echoes
with emptiness
The sound of you: a memory
The scent of you: erased

Pressing absence
Poisonous renewal
The vacuum pulls
devouring those
who are alone
Without your love

Regrets and yearning
A love that still burns
until we too
are gone

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