She lies in repose:
Sadly sweetened veins
Pulsing to each foreboding cough
While I stand
Idly by.
What horror binds me?
What curse has left
My arms so wanting?
Pain untempered by memories
Enshrouds all
And I cry for yesterday
And I curse fate
Uncontrolled by my passions.
And I watch with weakened eyes
And hollow tears.
But what else have I?
A knowing of myself
A little less, each day.
James K. Richardson