Stained hearts
musty and dust-ridden
worry with strife, unconditional,
laments unfurling in every word
tossed back and forth between
dejection and elation

Then become vocalized
hints of imminent departure
whispers of farewell and final breaths
by bedside lamps and flattened pillows,
while foreboding prophecies
all turn into, “we’ll meet again, soon. I promise.”

These are,
broken words
fighting to abstain from the grim realization
that loss breeds emptiness.