..MEMOIRS OF GRIEF..
Surely God could alter the story if he's truly the author?
Revoke 'fate'. Offer MY spirit to cross over the border.
The days dawn in, No more nights to savour,
Its daunting to think that I'm helpless to save her.
Left feeling as empty as my hollow existence.
I wish I could drain all the pain away in an instant.
My presence unjust in her imminent absence.
I muster "I'm so sorry" yet it carries no substance.
I have to be her rock, in truth she's my boulder,
I hold her as she rests her head on my shoulder.
This unforgettable night feels unbearably colder,
Frosty reception for the night that draws older.
The bleeping of the monitor is the riddem of the reaper.
Eyes keeping on at her, bed ridden and she's weaker.
Sorrows hidden in the banter, her laughs feel bleaker.
Lifes saddened as the warmth in her bright eyes flicker.
Where's the premise in a gentle soul hung out to dry?
Still, we reminisce in the times that pass us by,
Laugh and cry, masking the moment our hearts die.
Warped justice. In the shape of prolonged goodbye.
Frail body rejecting treatment as the end is near,
A pale complexion. Injecting a statement of fear.
Stale fragment of tears escape my dormant exterior,
My pursuit of happiness lays diminished next to her.
A holy impurity feuding my heart as it strains.
Slowly but surely bloods eluding her veins,
The colour in her skin fades away with her pain,
Its hard to restrain tears. When it pours it rains.
Her ticker flat lines in tandem with my own soul,
We bickered at times about landing our own goals,
Now like her body that story lies stone cold.
My only role was to be a home for her hands to hold.
|