The Priest talked of your tragic passing
I was unzipping your dress, watching it gracefully fall to the floor
You would be sorely missed
The back of your neck was warm, and your nipples came alive
We sang a song where angels long
Your fingers caressed inside, and the taste was inviting
Your husband spoke of his love and the pain he felt
I was kissing the bow on your panties, gently teasing them down
The final song. Abide with me, abide with me
The teasing became unbearable as you pulled my hair, forcing my tongue inside you
The curtain closed for the final time as tears subside
We exploded, and you laughed and cried
The leaving pleasantries were awkward, sorry for our loss, maybe misconstrued
You got dressed for the final time, leaving a goodbye gift
I shed a tear outside, your gift drying my eyes
The congregation left to drink to times gone by
Some looked right through me
Some just never knew why…
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Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: October 14th, 2025 05:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: RSM0812, Tristan Robert Lange
Online)
Comments3
Sounds like a memory of love and passion. These are the memories that last.
They sure do.
A most interesting combination of sex with death, memories with the present, pleasure with pain. A most interesting write. Well done
Love and death, perfect mixture.
So many classic tragedies tell.
Paul, this piece feels like a requiem whispered through memory. You held love and loss in the same breath—and that’s what makes it human. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛ Well done!
The perfect subject for a poem.
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