Memories fade
Like the print on an old bus
ticket
The one you used
The morning before you died
I kept it in my wallet safely
For 2 or 3 years
But still it faded
Like your face
And your body
All I remember is
Long dark hair, deep brown
Almost black, bottomless eyes
Eyes that you could lose yourself in
I did, for 2 or 3 years
Before they faded
Like the print on an old bus ticket
The one I found
Going through the pockets of your coat
The day after you died
I still have the coat
The clothes
Skirts, dresses, bras
Dead, empty fabric that once held life
2 or 3 years ago
But it fades
Like the smell of your perfume
Or the print on an old bus ticket
The pain also slowly fades
From an all-encompassing  explosion
Beginning in my chest
Then quickly, painfully spreading
Leaving a shake in my hands
The aftershock, the tremors
After a huge earthquake
Fading to
Nothingness
An empty space in my chest
A hole where love used to be
An awful chasm, never to be filled
Unable ​to be filled
Until the rest of my conciousness
Fades
Dying with a long, slow deep sigh
Leaving an explosion of pain
In the hearts of my family
But slowly it will fade
Over 2 or 3 years
Until I am just a face in a photograph
That surely must fade
Like the print on an old bus ticket