Love never
its departure.
It does have
death rales
the end;
the sound
of a man
in his own
bodily fluids.
Love’s au revoir
never has
the stench of
end-stage cancer.
It is even
more fragrant in
the leaving.
so much
unfufilled hope in
its unfolded petals;
left listless in
the wind-
a withered brown.

Alice Parris


2 responses »

  1. Dear Carolina,

    I have known this tristesse.The lingering looking backwards at love has its own unique sadness.Thank you for taking time to comment. I do appreciate it. This is a fledgling site and I had not gotten much response. You have given me encouragement.
    Alice Parris

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