My Last Memory of You

Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash

Sauce slowly drips
down your chin
you can’t even
chew anymore.

I left that
day worried I
should’ve said
goodbye, but

something about hope
kept me delaying
disappointment, yet
inevitably, abruptly
you’re gone.

I come home,
make spaghetti,
bereft

tears steadily drip
from my chin
I can’t even
breathe anymore.

Justin Mark DeWolf 2020