WHEN I LOSE YOU—OR YOU LOSE ME
The survivor will enter the world of the moribund.
No more hugs and kisses, and massages of the back and feet,
just never-ending solitary mornings, afternoons and evenings
in a raw angst that sucks the marrow out of our bones.
Only a momentary whiff of Euphoria’s scent for him,
and the love poems she re-reads written for her,
provide a balm for a wound that will never heal.