she is a shadow,
a lean piece
of wind lying still
on white sheets.
she is less
of who she was,
but her memory
stings like a wet
hand on a cut wire.
i am awakened
without her
being near.
her voice
in a vague whisper
calling me to come
closer. to take
her lifeless
hand and rise
up, as she did
into a bright
unknown.
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