You do not see my heart break
360,000 times an hour,

my stoop becomes more pronounced,

my eyes sink and my cheeks hollow.

 

You do not see each line and wrinkle

from each grief ridden second,

my hair and blood thinning,

as the light departs my eyes.

 

Golden sunbeam hair,

moonbeam eyes and cherry crescent lips,

butterflies in her shoes.

When we walked through farrowed fields,

solis and luna blended into aeons.

 

I am glad you did not stay,

to witness the decay of this life.

 

Dolor by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016