Sweet hours
once ours
with happy noises
now ruled inexorably
by silence.

The quiet quietly devours
the insides
like maggots
feasting on the dead.

From the graves
we helped dig for each other,
cold and blue,
our eager eyes look to the stars,
futilely far
for missing warmth.

©Shail Mohan 2015

Linked to Prompt 41 – Weekend Wordle #6 at A Prompt Each Day