The Room That Broke My Heart: A Poem

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You became a voice enveloped in gentleness,

Without a body, slightly touched by your own

Memory that is more my own now, kept alive

By my acts of feeding the thought of you, the

Rest stops of love and commemoration, you appear

In songs and scents, food and quotes.

 

The room, emptied of you, full of your objects,

I looked at them and they broke my heart,

Your absence then and there, your hair was still

On your pillow, on your blanket (it smelled of you),

On your mattress, that held your body, holy to me,

To my own, the sensation of your touch, my muscle

Memory.

 

The room robbed of life. There were plants.

Your care rested in the room. What belonged to

Your heart, what had been left of it. Everything

You abandoned, in death, left behind, from your

Soul into our hands. I put you on a pedestal, what

Remains of you. You touched them. You linger.

Every day I erect you anew, I know you’re free.

 

I put your objects down and didn’t touch them for a few

Days. I didn’t want you to think that you had to stay so close.

I looked at them. I felt you. I slowly released you from my

Obsession, I let love sink in attached to what has been and will

Be once you found your peace and you did, the heaviness faded

Away and you could go with him, to the gardens that you loved,

I would love you wherever you were and upon reaching

Your lands I held the objects close to my chest and wished you well.

opened glass window
Photo by Alessio Cesario on Pexels.com

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