40 Days after Death

Closure is the cypress, the steel, the almond finish
That finishes me and finishes you, that sends us into ruins.
It lays peacefully at the end of a red-carpeted aisle.
It has an empty shell laying peacefully in it, without a blemish.

Tears soak on the clothes, and blood no longer runs through the veins,
This body, no longer able or capable of movement or influence,
Has the soul, sitting in the pews, lost by miles,
And going to be lost for forty days. 

Those days of mourning, of utter confusion, of unrequited goodbyes,
made you say, what would I have done differently if you were alive?
And it takes just that, death to open your eyes.
Death to finally give Closure.