wrinkled and rumpled the bed will remain,
and the sheets in wild tangles untouched.
the imprint of the form she left behind
next to mine will linger.
I will not bathe, not even tomorrow.
and of no use will be my garments.
I will not put the comb to my hair
for it erases the traces of her fingers.

This morning I’ll refrain from eating.
and this evening also.
nor on my lips will I refresh the color
for I must wear her kisses as long as I can

let shutters stay shut
and the door unopened
for I fear the wind
may carry the memories away.

pierre louÿs, adapted by assurbanipal babilla

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