Embalm

The needle’s in the red.
Our love has gone to bed.
What was and wasn’t said,
Encased in laden lead.

Each time that I reach out,
Brings heavy small amount.
Viscous dribbling towards the drain.
I melt the wax, but given wane.

I miss those early eager days 
Without fog and stinging haze.
I guess that’s how it goes,
When reeling in the clothes.

These words, a peeling scab
Of memories, all we have.
We need a soothing salve.
From you, a dribbly dab.

To go this way unkept?
Or cut the tumor from the flesh?
Stepping lighter, this I know,
The heavy heart cannot let go.
​

7/14/24