When I’m Gone

When my words waste away 
I want all the feelings I created
to last beyond my me’mries.

Even me’mries will fade away,
but all the feelings I caused are 
going to stay and be passed on.

The tenderness I gave to you showed 
you how to soothe your own and
they will feel the crisp warmth.

When I pierced you with thorns
you bled salty waters, an imbalance
was spurred and a deprivation dug.

The discomfort I gave to you showed
you how to inflict your own and
they will feel the honey bee’s sting.

I bottled my words like the jams
in the cupboard. Mason jars leaking
heavy air to the concrete floor.

[For my Mother; she would’ve been 38 on March 28th]

©Terrah Short 2012

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