Those Last Words Hang in the Balance

A Poem

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

the last petals are falling
oh, oh, the memory of you
is dying, dying, dying
and I can’t see up
from down at all
and
there’s no remnant
of that voice I loved
or those hands on me

if you were a ghost,
things might be simple
because
then you’d haunt me
and I’d be at ease
knowing you were
safe and sound

don’t let this thing
we called love
perish
at glimpse of dawn —
but it’s too late
because
you let the door
slam behind you

the flower you gave me
won’t take water
but I keep it close
even as it wilts
and someday soon
it too will be memory —
oh, how I dread that day