by Jillian Cooper

Created on: September 08, 2009

Flickering flame

Leftover ashes

retained,

Into this

ivory urn,

Upon the mantle,

In the view of

the eye,

Lays their essence.

She or he

either it

could be,

Sex was never

a issue.

How absurd

this disguise,

Many do keep,

Upon their visual

horizon.

This empty

forbidden bone,

For ivory

ain't cheap,

Nor tis it legal,

Yet do not be

side-swiped.

For that is not

the issue,

For here lays,

The heart the bone,

The frame upon

which these things

hung from,

To make the person

we so very missed,

Just that a being,

Taking up some

sort of room,

All we want

simply,

In our minds,

Is that they

still exist,

Even if

the whom

and whole

of them

Is just a essence

of what they once were,

Our hearts yearn

for those,

Ashes

that essence,

To arise

Engulfing us

yet again,

Unfolding all

we'd missed,

In the absence

of that essence.

So we keep the

ashes close,

Holding onto all

that is left,

It is just a trace

a scent we wished

we could embrace,

But ah, my friend.

All that is left

is their ashes,

Giving us their

final essence.

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