A poem about a girl struggling to cope with her lovers death.
So Lost Without Him.
Empty and scared, the lost girl cried.
A bouqet of daffodils wilting against her side,
tightly grasped in hands which appeared to be aging,
despite her obvious youth that was unchanging.
For two days, she clung to them tight.
The last flowers her love gave her on a glistening night.
With a long and heartfelt message,
she had meant to run to his graveside as soon as she heard,
what horror had occurred,
during that awful fight.
But was so lost she could not make sense of time.
On the first she pretended it didn’t happen.
My love is not dead , he’s alive , she threatened,
to passers by who offered condolenses for her loss.
She resumed her day in a haze, as though if she pushed the thought aside,
it would not exist.
Her eyes stayed cold, refusing to believe the truth amidst.
On the second day the truth sunk in.
She knew because her heart sank and then rose to rip right through her skin.
She bled her memories of Summer days and stolen kisses,
Winter evenings and snowy embraces,
followed by blanketed cuddles and delighted faces,
she bled them through her eyes.
She punched the wall ,
until, to join her eyes, her knuckles then bled.
Liquid trickled softly downwards,
The Daffodils turned slowly red.
So suddenly her love had been laid to rest.
Every thought was now a stab in the chest...
salty kisses in the in the blue green sea,
making love in the silence of the night in intimate privacy.
The secrets they shared,
the love that grew and blossomed and flared.
She wailed in grief and loss and pain,
her heart and chest ached to such unimaginable state,
and though she believed his soul would live on,
it was not satisfactory to be left for however long.
And though she believed he was safe and sound,
his deceased family members looking after him now,
it was not enough to be left alone earthbound,
separated from him by outer body shell and human features and frown.
She took a walk to the nearby stream,
not so far from the cemetery.
Soaked in tears and blood and sorrow and pain,
bruised with anger and scarred and drained,
the meadow was aglow with flowers of all shades,
a rainbow , a pallet of beauty despite the death so apparent in the day.
The stream flowed fast and aggressive from the rain, almost enough to cover the noise that came,
one shot was all it took to be with her love again.