Onward

I tidied up my bed
where her memories
sharpened the creases
of my sheets.

Like a snake, my heart
has shed its skin.
And that I held it close to my chest,
drenched with honey and blood.

As I stare on the wall,
a portrait of you reminds me
of the nightingale's song
at the break of dawning.

And on my bed,
I see our picture -
your arms wrapped around me;
a flash of an empty scene, I get.

-dyan kay ben-