Poem – “Last of your Kind” – Grief Poetry – 8/7/2022

I cannot care enough
to live, if I cannot
remember enough
to love. All those lines
drawn for winter’s arrival
of gray. Though, you keep
blooming, while hearts
are buried deep.

With this sadness,
comes madness, out of
some former symptom
of gladness. All those tears
that fell, together.
All those downpours
that kept our hopes
only floating.

What travels, if not
meaning to stop? What stops,
if not meaning to sleep?
Even in sleep, a heart
will continue to weep.
Even while it weeps,
a heart will remain deep
in those vines, those thorns
to make it bleed.

Pressure continues a flood
of blood. After sickness leaves,
after we have died,
our place becomes a missing
space, holding hands
with mere flowers.