I think your soul
Is pure and full
But as you drift through time and silence,
I hope,
It doesn't hurt anymore

In a bed of cradling clouds,
and a blanket of warm stars

You must still feel,
but how do you stomach?
Afterall,
Her face glows beneath his touch

Does it hollow you out,
Turn you even more weightless?

Or do you find comfort in the quiet-
Where memory cloaks you in black
and her, in white?