Author's note: Snarryverse. A burial.
what remains
Another cruel joke. You go into the ground
and the sun is shining. Too many faces wearing
that perfunctory sombreness,
eyes drawn like magnets to my head
as if something's missing there.
You weren't a betting man,
but you won this one.
I'm left standing and you're gone.
My own triumph tastes now
like your fingers did: as bitter as it's warm.
It's too early in the day to remember
and too late to forget
My waking smile falling
like weak morning light on the wall
of your back.
I think I loved you even then.
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