Not in an essence, or scent-
No spectral aura conjured by tears or laughter,
But through wishes left too late and unspoken
Guesses made in blue ink, seal stamped, and filed.
Your legacy pillaged and raped by suited men
'til it's extorted to to pennies.
Your smile and voice are buried in the stacks.
Documents, bills, and letters to be written
Fill the memory baring your name;
Your scent and laughter long gone.
Given choice, I would pick the lowest memory
Over the reality of perpetual argument and stress.
Perhaps it's better to have left only love.
Copyright © Jaycee Cervenka | Year Posted 2015