The C-Word

You're not even gone but I feel you 

Slipping, gliding through my fingers

Slowly like black molasses.

If it was quick, like a red burn

Or sharp stab I would have nothing to hold on to.

But now I grasp at a silhouette of a soul, your

Vibrant tongue is split and dry.

Poor one, I see you through your eyes but these

Thinning bones and laboured breaths scare me.

I want to hold you but I can't.

My friend, my dear, my darling boy.

Each moon we shared was like a hand print on my heart,

Forever kept, forever kept. 

Reviews

[Distant horizons]

Beautiful.