A dream

A dream in which I no longer wore the mourning color of black.

I had thrown it off in defiance,
as if saying it was okay you had died.

Time went on as it had before,
and except for the absence of a warm body at night
I was the same.

I was the young girl who had first met and fallen in love with you,
I was ante bellum,
I was whole.

And when it came time to love again
I found a vitality I thought I no longer possessed.

I forgot about you.

I thought,
why should your death mean mine too?

I will be free,
free to run and laugh
and play in such a manner
as not to offend the memories of the past.

Then I woke up.

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