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The Memory of You

© Bethany Suckrow

Recent past eclipses healthy memories,
those days when your smile and skin glowed happy,
what do we remember from before?
all of us were young and unaware of a soon and threatening after,
of a life later,
when the living room is empty of you,
when sad, silent objects sit in your void.

Tears come, a slow tide of grief in the dark,
or in a swell surrounded by a sea of strangers,
an angry rock of grief grows in my throat as I flee
to bathroom, closet, closed door.
I drive apologetic and repentant all the way to work each morning,
all the way home at night, mascara running along the road with me.

And when I think that faith has failed me,
"Take a deep breath," you say.
The sun glows bright against glistening pavement,
a sparrow flies fast and free above me,

I breathe.

"Until I see you again,"
I whisper,
"Beatific, wholly holy, alive and well."

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We two form a multitude

- Ovid

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

- Aristotle