She stood posed in photographs
Standing straight like a statuette.
The colors faded from age like the memories of the flowers on her dress.
Then I felt the infinite weight in the air that recedes but always hangs above me.
To swoop down with a thought of her.
To keep my heart always breaking.
How I pray for death.
But every chance I get, I tie the rope around the prayers instead.
I missed the line between you
One thousand angels could not fill your absence and the portraits begun were left blank and unfinished. I tried to complete them but what good are memories when they’re all that’s left.
Renoir would have turned in his grave when my lines failed to define your face.
I found a dried rose in my carrier and I swear I remembered you. Just a glimpse,
Just a passing photograph in the bedlam of my mind.
You see its things like your smile that I can’t lose, no matter how hard I try.
Did death greet you warm or did it grab you by the wrists and drag you down with it?