"Oh, soft gentle child,
your sweet young soul
was wrapped around
a heart of gold.
Forgotten and lost,
without a hope;
I left you alone,
and they supplied the rope..."

And here we stand,
sharing just
one last glance
together
into the underworld
of this reality.
Grief,
pain,
fury,
loss,
regret.

I am in turmoil
over the loss of you,
wraith
in my shadow.

I want to ask
why you left
us here,
torchbearer.

I demand
a gentle end
to this
itching,
scratching pain,
this vengeance
for my fleeting
silence
towards you.

I cannot bear this.

I cannot press on
with the thought
that I am
eternally,
irrevocably
without you.

I fear that
soon enough,
you will be
nothing but
a memory;
a well-kept tome
locked up
and chained,
tended to
with gentle care,
held close
to my
worried heart.

...And yet,
though I will shed
these tears,
I will not
taint
your passing
with my belated
earth-bound words.
You might know peace.
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