Subjects of a Posthumous Heart

Say you had but
days to live;

what would you give
to be remembered
beyond a misappropriated memory,

the awkward measurements time forces upon us?

Say that after beauty’s turned to dust,
you’ll have me in
one last
maddening testament,
until our
souls can
at least
adjust.

Say after lust there’s a love that fits our waist size, and paper to metabolize each impulse.

Say there’s such thing as happy endings outside condescending grace,

and the tears down
your face are
not for me, darling,
but your creator’s
wisdom in cursing us
with age.

To easily discard youth
but still retain strength,
bury the years
but exhume reverie
your mother wouldn’t

have mistaken for her daughter;

these are qualities that made life worth its wait.

So say there will be a story in the most
boring denouement,
handdrawn happiness
in manufactured
illness.

Say there’s some built-in benefit to falling apart, but even if you don’t tell me any of this,

you’re the
subject of
my posthumuous heart.

Say you say
nothing but the
brown eyes I
vowed to die alongside.

That’s a story for a start. 

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2 thoughts on “Subjects of a Posthumous Heart

  1. This is such a well-crafted and profound poem of love. I bet you get, “You’re wise beyond your years, ain’tcha?” a lot. To me the climax of the poem was the declaration (and also the title) “You’re the subject of my posthumous heart.” But the poignant resolution that followed, lying alongside those brown eyes, heightened the climax even more…posthumously…

    Liked by 1 person

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