In Loving Memory

Farther as the days pass
and still I stand here,
dressed in black with no class,
weeping for you, my dear.
Ice cold and hard as stone
before you regained colour,
but still I rue and bemoan
for a dead white flower.

Although my grasp seems to let go
I cling on to you forever
whether you rise high or sink low
I could never learn to love her,
though your mouth, a stranger smile,
and mirrored eyes of my wife,
a corpse clothed in modern style,
a demon who took your life.

They slide down each dusty photo
and rain like June and July.
Remnants in a red envelope
away from where we use to lie.
Confined within walls of white and blue
that keep me from reality,
the reality that I've lost you,
and the reality that you've left me.

We've all sinned like the sinners we are
but sin remains in this world.
Your toxic death is gone and far
and I accept you broke your word,
but in that dress and in that paint
you ask our lives to go on.
To say this, love, brings me pain,
but you're long dead and gone.

They may dance on your grave and sing,
these necrophiles once green.
The dead in hell rejoicing,
seeing more of what they've seen,
but I grieve in a requiem
and sing these elegies for you
in memory of our life then
and our love that was true.

Oh, what I would give to go back
to all the days I cherish most
and stay there for eternity,
just me and your ghost.

If you could hear me, my dear,
know what I'm still here,
singing in your memory,
wishing you'd return to me.

I love you, believe me I do,
but you're just no longer you.