Poem: Mourning

Mourning

It is too hard
thinking I will never
see you again, that
you are passed
through a door
that I will never
open, though
I know it is so
in my mind,
even in the aching
of my heart, I know
it is so, but still
am certain: it cannot
be, must not be.  What
is a world where your
absence can be made
so thorough?

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