my love, my source of life
lay dead before me
as beautiful in death
as she was alive
or more so

her rotting eyes
gazing at me, unseeing
a shadow of the love they held remains

my tongue explores her mouth
tasting
touching
probing
something breaks under its soft touch

waking up in a pool of sweat
my heart is pounding
was it a dream?
I turn to look at her visage
the stillness of her chest
do I dare touch her to find out?