I've spent hours just hovering, what seems like a thousand embraces and a million hollow words. A love once so powerful it could topple mountains lay unmoving before me, slowly suffocating, disappearing with every stifled cry.
(more)
Am I crying?
There's people telling me to move along, to move on, to try to distract myself from the task at hand. How does one forget, even momentarily, such loss? I defy them, defy them as we have all our lives in the hopes that perhaps he will defy the very laws of nature if only for one last embrace.
It wasn't supposed to be this.
He wasn't supposed to be alone.
Before I know it there's soil rubbing against the bare skin of my heel, the shovelling has stopped and I'm lying with my tear-stained cheek to cold unyielding oak. It doesn't feel like him, like love, and yet it's the closest to it that I feel I've been in the few days without him by myself.
Perhaps, I think, I shall lay forever six feet beneath the Earth's surface with this box, keeper of his sacred remains, forgetting that I ever was or ever could be anything more than what I am at this very second.
There's chatter from above but I pay it no mind.
They do not feel as I do, or rather, they have not lost entirely the ability to feel at all and they do not know that the cold touch of his coffin is the first I've felt since they put him in it. My tears are falling freely, heavier than before, and without realising I begin the wheeze.
He's always had my heart, it seems, his present predicament just makes him all the more intent to keep it.(less)
