I climbed this mountain today, remembering a time that seems so long ago.
The sheets wrap around me like linen on a body laid in state in front of the masses quietly mourning the loss of a soul once brought to life because of you.
My room is a tomb, cold, without life or light, sitting alone. No perfumes adorn my neck, no iron has worked through my hair. I lay here in jammies made only for warmth, remembering a time when I laid here next to you.
The tulle skirt lies crumpled on the floor a heap on top of the lacy top. My shoes were picked specifically for the twirling and dancing we used to do. The roses you bought, still in their vase now wilting, petals falling one by one as if forgetting they used to be part of something beautiful, lovely. With each loss the once whole flower now becomes a broken husk that someone remembers once had beauty.
The tears begin anew like the rain pelting coldly outside. I don’t know if I’ll make it today, so I close my eyes and descend the hill back into my bed, maybe tomorrow I’ll crest this sorrow and escape this sadness.
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