Life prevails, even despite such considerable unhappiness,
moulding into contentment like clay
with a heart full of hope.
A soul so fervent,
earnest in every way
even despite the longing for inevitable rest
or another option.
Everything about her was anapestic,
even if she was stitched with misery and anguish.
Sometimes pain is what holds true beauty.
Even in her absence,
her heart remains stitched to my own
in an inevitably bittersweet denouement.
