funeral

I want to keep you in my embrace, to view life through your strands

Instead, I’ll have to wait in a timeless slumber

Your canvas edges could slice my clothes into two
I let go, you cut purposefully and drape mercilessly at the top of the moon
The moon heavy with grief, sobs in the wake of the dead clothes
My guests arrive and depart one by one

All of my family had excuses, absences, all but air, and never their presence
At the funeral of my attire, I desire to be put to rest in my garden
Sadness as a partner, it held a residence in my home while others did the exact opposite