She held his hand
for the last time
feeling the familiar grooves
of his skin
brush against her own
a road map
of his life
running deep and strong.
She would miss this
his touch, familiar,
comforting and warm.
Who would hold
her hand now?
As they reach the doorway
too soon
she looks down
desperately trying
to stop the tears
from escaping
she wouldn't weep
not after everything.
A silent goodbye
pulsates between them
no words necessary
or to be found
just a look. A look of love
loss and confirmation.
And then he was gone.
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In The Name Of Love
Poetry"Come inside this heart of mine, feel the beat to the poets rhyme, words they tumble, spilling pain, tales of woe or love, again." Poems about love, good and bad, real and imagined, sometimes beautiful, sometimes dark but always, always, from the...
