AN ESCAPIST'S REPRESSED DESIRE | poetry

dressed all in white **

tw: death (of a loved one)

-

i know,
i know he was gone long before
he was swallowed by the ravening ground
and drowned in the tumultuous thunder
of tossed ivory roses onto his coffin,
but i refuse to believe it.

his blanched, lit candles;
bright, twinkling stars; and
bouquets of pearly jasmines and lilies.
his toothy grin.
this is my soul's ruination of ashen kisses.

god knows
that too soon, i'll remember his faults.
for now, it's the white-knuckling pain
with every slow blink of his sunken,
ghastly eyes, the shutting of his
rugose, pallid eyelids that curses me.
i won't remember his milky, sweet laughter
or our little cottage by the beach
or the silver ring on my empty finger.

torrid tears, coughs, crept in through the gaps
of his crumbling, alive facade,
leaving him bed-ridden and pale.
i didn't know what to do.
i, far too sober to speak, hushed his pain.
it did not work.
how could it when vexation plagued
every precarious
breath of his?
this is a goodbye, isn't it?

he said
he wanted to see me dressed all in white,
but now he's the one rotting in it.