that they could have died together,
then one rainy night
she decided to leave
and lead a normal life.
She lives but the boy died in grief,
leaving her an unending treasure of guilt.
She recalls that warm December,
cool breezy nights of April,
the spin of the day
into hurried evening,
their anxious wait for darkness
to prowl and leave them
in a curious cuddle.
The family is now used to her
walking away in another room aimlessly,
she only moves at the thought of him,
she couldn’t cry openly when the news came.
Now she has the freedom to close the door.
Her normal life is happy on the outside,
insides the funeral never stops,
a cavalcade of white sheets
pass right in front her imagination
and she sits there smiling
as if a knot is being tied between two souls.
A common friend says they died the same day.