You breathed your last breath from the air <br /> in this room; <br /> that threadbare Persian carpet <br /> holds flakes from your skin; <br /> hairs from your head <br /> corkscrew the dented cushions <br /> scattered and idly waiting on the sofa; <br /> bed linen scented with your sweat <br /> the goose down doona that stole <br /> your last warmth; <br /> sleep spit and tears <br /> human moisture that permeates <br /> the acrylic layers of your pillow; <br /> an eyebrow hair wedged in the tweezers; <br /> a clipped nail that flew off <br /> somewhere out of sight; <br /> that new toothbrush used only once; <br /> your flannel and towel still drying out; <br /> the wet press footprint on the bathroom mat; <br /> the talcum powdered slippers <br /> abandoned under the brass bed. <br /> Each moment of everyday <br /> we shed ourselves <br /> shed dead cells and renew - <br /> a cycle of shedding <br /> until the last <br /> shedding of ourselves. <br /> <br /> <br /> © M.L. Emmett<br /><br />M.L. Emmett<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-forensic-science-of-grief/
