Grief
A weird sensation
A feeling that might lead to depression;
A sentiment of enclosement
That is what he felt looking down
At his wife’s corpse
Tangled in the sheets
Of their bed
He admired the beauty of the contrast
Between the white and red
Her porcelain skin on the wrinkled sheets;
The bed linen that carried a story
A story of sickness
Of a woman loved by a man
That had art as a guide
And beauty as a map
He was a man who was gifted
With a taste for beauty
Hands as delicate as glass
And eyes that could find love
In darkest scenarios
But this alien sensation of devouring shadows
That took grip of his heart
And squeezed the happiness out of it
Through pain
And tears
Lurked every time he laid eyes on the corpse
Grief and fear of death
Betrayed his gifts
It was a battle in his heart
Whether to be consumed by hate towards nature
Or to embrace the perfection of it
How precise the bacteria was;
How agile
And quick
Every drop of blood
That swirled down her cheek
Carried a tale of agony
Every cough
Her lungs had exorcised out
Now formed perfect crimson patterns
As the human machine shut
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