The hole was not dug with care. It
is boxy, and the taunting scent of
freshly turned soil mixes with the
perfume of the flower sprays that
sit beside you now, odorous and
pungent. Smelling of something
other than life.

A lone bird cries, just once, a
single scream into the swirling
mists. It is all I hear through this
constant humming in my ears. I
will the muted void to always stay
on. Your soft whispers gone, I'd
rather be deaf.

They lower you into that sinister
red slash of earth, and bile rises
in my throat – sour-sweet and
tasting of all the bitter sorrow
stored in my gut. Acid waves
roil and churn, burning from the
inside out.

I am numb, I am cold. Wind rips at
my face, rubbing it raw. You are
not there to soothe my skin with a
gentle touch. Your warmth no
longer sears my flesh. Instead
rain falls down, sharp and stinging,
to drown me.