sunflowers

  

The pain courses through me.
Fresh, intense,
Like the sharp edge of broken glass
taut against soft flesh.

I close my eyes and for a second,
You’re there—we’re there;
Together, happy, unknowing. 
The sunflowers you bought are still upright.

Smiling, like we are,
They sit in their vase.
Among us, a part of us—
a part of what we’ve made home.

Then—
another wave.
Reality, the ache.

And you’re gone.
We’re gone.

Not dead, but wilted;
Like your love for me.
Like those sunflowers.

May 2011