Your departure is too young, early, yet late
late, broken, too bright, I saw it all, saw too much.
As every pain crept over you, through you
fracturing more than you,
I saw your body crumble, mind stumble to a shadow
of what you were, of who I am in you.
I could hear my selfish voice scream, “NO, not yet!”
Knowing it should have been sooner, beautiful, dim
before your body was stolen, and thin
peacefully, not vicious,
not splitting, nor choking to suffer another forced breath
before your were humbled, tired, nauseous.
Though daughter of your womb, I found mine useless
to hold you or heal you, even lessen your pain
as yours bred me, fed me, held me in warmth
my ‘palatial’ ocean
could merely create, not reproduce nor replicate
your body, mine so limited, so helpless.
I want to touch you with my lips, bring you from sleep
want to shock you with strength, even jolt you awake
but I turn to my mirror, see you stare back
with no words, you contract
as your face builds up flames in the furnace, your home,
dust displaces your flesh, replaces your bones.
With a whisper, “I love you,” I recall you expressed.
Smothered by silence, I prolonged you a kiss,
knowing no more would we argue, laugh or debate
I swept the sweat from your face, before leaving your place.
And I cried as I walked away to my future
I sighed as you died from my time
breathed as you flew to your beauty
and smiled, as you moved,
from your pain
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