In those days all I wanted
was to feel something
other than grief.
When you asked to say
the night after the funeral
I was too tired
to say anything but yes.

We made love
the way we used to,
before all this.
I wrapped my legs around your body
and clung to you
when it hurt
so you wouldn't
pull away,
leave me alone
with the notion that
pain can survive by itself.

I could not let you go
even after we finished,
your pulse still string
inside of me.
As if it were ours.
As if two people
could own one heartbeat.
As if grief could be shared.