Stinging eyes
tingling face
his touch
his scent
his voice
all escape her
as grief grafts itself
on her bones
she does not
she cannot move
sitting unshowered
knees to chest
staring blankly
out of the window
she looks past
nature's youth
craving to hear
"no" and "right" with
elements of sarcasm
once again
her ink stained hands
would never touch
his smooth skin again
her worn eyes
would never drink
him in again
she couldn't conceive
of a time, a time when
haunting echoes
bitter tears
no longer plagued her
unprepared for a final
goodbye
she mourned the past
eyes closed tightly
recreating his image
afraid to move
she would never
write again
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