A Love Song To The Woman Dressed In White: A Poem

I think of you. Your body, alone, wanting

To be left alone, in a chapel, a side room,

Where they’d keep someone like you,

Someone without life, someone that I

Loved, I think of you on an altar, my heart

Takes me there, to you, I never wanted you

To be cold.


I never saw you in that white dress.

I heard your sounds, the mouth, how

You held on or tried to let go, I couldn’t

Believe that this was you. How I stood in

A garbage yard surrounded by overfilled

Dumpsters when I heard the words, the seal

Upon your ended life, I stood amongst the

Fizzling rain that wouldn’t commit.


I thought you’d come all the way to see

Me, walk through the door that I held open for

You, your body, all the memories attached to it.

I thought I sensed you there. With me.

Still, less and less. I can’t believe that the girl

Within you, the one snacking, the one laughing

At dirty jokes, the one putting sugar on strawberries,

Was dead. The woman who held me when the world

Became too heavy. The woman who didn’t run away

From the intensity of pain.


I remember you. I remember how you were.

When you were trying to be the best version of

Yourself that you could be. You wanted to be rejoined

With your father. For a long time, life had been a drag.

I never fully knew what had happened to you, what

Monsters grew within you. I saw you hang on to life

Less and less. But we could always laugh. We’d find

That comfort together.


I held your glasses in my hand, red, your skin,

Your eyes, without glasses, obsolete, on the nightstand.

The loose change in the weirdest corners of the room.

In old purses. I bought your favourite truffles with it

And thought of you. The taste you left behind.

The white hair and skin in your hairbrush, the books

About cats and the secret language of trees, the powder

Embracing your skin, the scent that is yours forevermore.

white flowers in black ceramic vase on brown wooden table
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com



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