© Samantha Lucero 2017
It’s no comfort knowing that you’re buried,
deep down, taking earth around you
like blankets that fall apart and crawl.
But seasons still disrobed like actors
backstage in a play, in front of
everyone. Even with you
gone, the world moved on.
And I watched. We all did.
Forced to watch, without you,
with seasons pouring the years
between us in vanishing old flannel,
smelling like Salem filter kings,
soft.
Spring grew through us both
like a blade.
And you died in the summer.
A diamond in that box
they buried you in, deep down,
where you fall apart and crawl, too,
by now. Still waiting to be proposed,
like the plan to go back to Santa Fe.
Sometimes I wait for you to show,
maybe at the movie I go to alone,
sitting next to me when I peek over
in the flickering dark.
You could come around a…
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samantha lucero 
Based on my past comments it should be no mystery that you’re my favourite. Your writing makes me contemplate identity theft.
Journalist: so, you’re the one who wears lace when it rains?
Me: uhm, maybe I didn’t think this all the way through.
No one has a better vista of the dark than you. this piece will stay with me for a long time.
Lol. I love your comments. Thank you so much. If I could like this more than once, with a super-like, I would. 🖤🖤
Always love dropping in, thanks for posting this, another lovely read.
Thank you!!
Please, be alive somewhere.
It was the line that made me feel the most. It doesn’t matter my mind doesn’t believe in such a possibility. When you lose someone you love, you still say that little prayer.
Amazing writing.
Thanks again. I also don’t believe in such a possibility, but I’ve hoped it inwardly for this particular subject many, many times.