A dream
A dream in which I no longer wore the mourning color of black.
I had thrown it off in defiance,
as if saying it was okay you had died.
Time went on as it had before,
and except for the absence of a warm body at night
I was the same.
I was the young girl who had first met and fallen in love with you,
I was ante bellum,
I was whole.
And when it came time to love again
I found a vitality I thought I no longer possessed.
I forgot about you.
I thought,
why should your death mean mine too?
I will be free,
free to run and laugh
and play in such a manner
as not to offend the memories of the past.
Then I woke up.