The Holiness Of Saying Your Name: A Poem

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You were still in that room.

I came in when it was too late.

When you had already left.

When you left the room without

Walking. I heard your voice across

The globe. It resides in my head, your

Voice, the way you said my name.

 

No one would say it the way you did.

Your voice sank into my bones.

Holding your arm. I could still smell you.

 

I stood in that yellow-tiled room,

Looked into the mirror that had

Been used to your face, those beautiful

Blue eyes, the shelves with all the products

You used. I stood close to an addiction.

 

You didn’t exist anymore and here I stood.

In your bathroom. Your private chamber.

Drawn in by your objects, magnets for

A child that has always adored you, a child

Softened by grief, receptive to every sign of you,

Every trail of your scent, your voice, your echoes,

Across my skin, on my skin, the plants knew you

So well. Whoever watched your face when you

Looked outside through the window.

 

The pain of losing you swims in my blood.

I feel it when I say your name, in my head,

You’re there, every part of you, loved to the core,

Missed, I keep you holy.

trees in a forest
Photo by João Vítor Heinrichs on Pexels.com

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