Prison Wholeness - 2019

When you died, it ceased being a home-it became a prison.

A prison to the memories, to the what-ifs, to the dreams never seen.

It was no longer mine.

Neither was my heart.

Who I was left with you, into the unknown.

Who I would become was left unsaid, untouched, unseen.

The weight of your memory was so heavy, but not unbearable;

The weight of my pain, though-

Oh, that was the one too much to carry-

Awakened to the awareness that once was, is no more.

The respect I carried on my own was half that of what your existence provided.

Once again left to either protecting or eroding, no in-between.

I was just-me. Who is that? Why was she worth loving, respecting, or understanding?

She that is unseen is always considered a danger because no one likes the dark.

In that darkness lies the truth-neither awful or superlative, 

Just as she is meant to be-

-herself-

Worth all that is lovely, wonderful, pure, sinful and everything in between.

She was there, always, because she was and is whole.