Melissa Moran

Melissa, memory keeps on buzzing
My head. I climb the stairs and take
A look inside our chambers, gazing
At darkness, empty, raw, awake.
The dawn begins to set the windows
On fire – eviscerating shadows.
“Oh, poor old Mr. Back,” you said
Upon discovering he’d fled
The city. “Only one casualty –
His soul, now burnt away from blood
And kin….” My love, you died in bed,
Our bed, my barren patrimony…
So cools the flame – and I endure
Your fading shade, another year.