Renoir, 1920

She stood posed in photographs Standing straight like a statuette The colors faded from age like the memories of the flowers on her dress Then I felt the infinite weight in the air that recedes but always hangs above me To swoop down with a thought of her To keep my heart always breaking How I pray for death But every chance I get, I tie the rope around the prayers instead I missed the line between you And forget One thousand angels could not fill your absence and the portraits begun were left blank and unfinished. I tried to complete them but what good are memories when they’re all that’s left Renoir would have turned in his grave when my lines failed to define your face I found a dried rose in my carrier and I swear I remembered you. Just a glimpse Just a passing photograph in the bedlam of my mind You see its things like your smile that I can’t lose, no matter how hard I try Did death greet you warm or did it grab you by the wrists and drag you down with it?