Part I: Our Island (In mourning eyes)

I write quite a bit about loss so I decided to make a series of three interconnected poems in three different peoples points of views instead of mine. Here is the first of them:


Our Island (In mourning eyes)

When I’d feel the weight on my shoulders

He’d tell me not to worry

Then spent the night making me smile

and laugh and forget the world

So we called our bed an island

In a sea of discarded take-out

and lots and lots of socks

Nothing else mattered

I smiled and laughed

and forgot the world

And I never truly worried

I did not worry when he began to cough

Or when it led to wheezing

And then one day he said

he wasn’t well and I

drove him to the hospital

All the while doing what he told me

Not to worry

And when he said his chest hurt

I didn’t know mine would too

Because now I sit upon our island

alone

Missing him so much

it hurts.

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