The Long Farewell Pt. V

What a curious thing, this.

Your grave, freshly dug and waiting

Is more of a future

Than the one that I face

I, here, in the so-called land of the living.

Indeed, so gloomy and grey it is here

As I stand over your grave and solemnly lower my eyes

I pretend my life will resume its well-worn patterns

But after watching you packed away, albeit to where you are happiest?

Nay, my lifeblood goes with you!

There can be no hope for me

The one so unconciously and intricately connected to you.