Tag: grief

We farewelled with a hug
after a lazy beach day
I complained about
your sweaty hot skin on mine
your breath burned my earlobe
I dived straight back in the sea
to cool off

When the police kicked down
your apartment door
you laid on the warm floor tiles
bathed in the hot afternoon sun

The coroner released you
in a numbered bag to the holding room
1-5°C was ideal for you

I stood staring at you
in front of the open casket
You looked cold and distant
took no notice of the flush pink
plastered on your face

All the eulogy givers tried so hard
to warm up the service with dead jokes
to comfort the mouners with inconsolable stories
to celebrate your life with cruel death’s doing

You are now a chill stone
tied around my ankle
sinking me forever into the deep blue
withholding your hot sweat
and burning breaths

the truth that
you have gone
is like
the cold sweat
after a nightmare
it pierces the numbness
to thrust
the cruel reality
upon me

Many times I had dreamt that
I held your callous hands
tugged myself under your hem
where you shielded me from the sudden rain

Many times I had convinced myself that
I was strong enough to fend for myself
from all the accusing fingers
which you would had crushed them without hesitation

Many times I had wished you were still here
to share the weather worn swing
sipping lemon tea together while
recounting our childhood mischiefs

I didn’t know that I had lost you
until so many times I had misplaced
my memory of your presence
They snugged up on me
in my most vulnerable state
where I had no tomb to crawl into
no means to make my way to you