Poetry, Romantic, Short Poem, Thoughtful

Rigor Mortis

Haunting and whimsical
the drooping state
of rigor mortis has stolen the
nectar from my flowers;
leaving the bouquet in a state
of prolonging misery. The numbing
bite of melancholy; a poignant
reminder of my idle neglect;
A mature endeavor
collapsed by mutual disrespect.

Like a photo I hold dear,
I will cherish the times
where we were at our prime;
awe-struck with new emotions
and tender-loving unions. A hurricane
with catatonic tendeneices–
may I learn to let go.

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