all that is left is your red cloak

I am finally in love
all my years
and I've finally found my love
our bodies so close
we touch just barely
our hands interlocked

I grip you tight, your perfect hand,
as we sit in the corner
feeling your body warmth
the warmth in the air, your aroma
and the warmth seeping along the ground

I gnaw at my unfinished supper
I offer you some
but you just sit and ignore
sit and stare
not into the distance
not into the present
you just stare at Death's sullen eyes

I squeeze your hand tighter
and try to tell you how I feel
but I choke up
my words are stuck in my throat
in my heart
I try but try is all I do

I wish I could cuddle you
to show you more affection
than that of a simple hand holding
but your body is already
all gone devoured, or bubbling up in the leftover soup
all that is left is your red cloak
which I wear
to remind me of your smell
to remind me of the beauty of love
and your hand
which I clasp once more
before bagging for a midnight snack