Widow Weeds

I never got to savor the taste of pungent possibilities
Or breathe in the musky scent of amorous aroma
She was dead inside long before she met me
Never once having hung up her widow weeds
Clinging to them like a talisman
Of all she had lost,
The journey begun,
And all she had won.

I never asked for a touch of denouement
Or a flicker of envy
They rushed me in an alley
On my way to my contingent plan
Leaving me broke and broken
Shattered like my private dreams
Of something like a future
With one who did not see
That widow weeds only hurt
The living.