Beneath the White Shroud

I close my eyes and see his face,
Surrounded by the whiteness of the shroud.
The crackle of plastic beneath the blue gray blanket,
A protestation shrieking out loud.

It's unrelenting tactileness,
Disallowing me to hold his lifeless body to me.
Leaving me to ache for him to awake,
Knowing that it was never meant to be.

I feel the icy cold rigor,
Of unyielding flesh against my lips.
This I can't put behind me,
As the pain through my heart rips.

Tears spatter with abandon,
Seeping into the sleeve of my mourning dress.
To unhearing ears,
My feelings for him I confess.

Forgiving him his trangressions,
But, t'is not enough to bring him back to life.
And a missing band of gold,
Is with one who is not his rightful wife.

Heedless of how much it would hurt those left behind,
He took his life without second thought.
As the noose tightened around a supple neck,
He gave in to the demons he fought.

For all of the doubt and guilt,
That brings my heart strings to sway.
I feel deep within me,
The WRONG person died that day.