|Church in Taos, New Mexico|
Some thought he forgot her. Not so.
She just shrank into tiny place in his heart,
while his mind got full of all he couldn't remember.
Then he only displayed fear, disguised, unrecognized
by him or the others he annoyed,
who didn't see his behavior
was the only way he cried.
Took a few years for him to follow
the love that kept him anchored.
Confined, she had no power to suppress his pulse,
his grandiose fantasies, which flashed like neon,
electrifying any who came near, burning
'til he had no one to impress.
He repelled those who helped,
who tried to love but failed
to see he was alone,
the way we all are
when we're unliving and undead.
So, when that tiny place in his heart
released her to him once again
through his final breath,
he welcomed the joy of death.
My aunt died about four years ago. Her husband passed away yesterday. He was a difficult man, especially after he suffered from dementia. But he had a kind heart and she saw that. Her affection was the closest to unconditional love he ever experienced. And now he's happy to mesh with it in an unknown place. At least that's how I want to end this love story.
(Submitted to Dverse Poets.)