Her memory spreads out before me like her body once did,
the echo of passion resounds in my head.
The room is now empty silent and still,
will the images fade and leave nothing to tell.
Methadone slumber does little to help,
she was all that I breathed and all that I smelled.
I wore the life that she wore,
we walked the same steps,
and spoke the same thoughts
time and again.
Stephen S. Yeandle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/separated/
