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Still my Husband, by Sariah Star

My husband is still my husband

even though my body has nothing

left to give him when we are

stripped of all mortal attachments.

When we are laying side by side

on a mattress with cold sweat

on our temples.

Even if we are headed to this

place we feel robbed to

no longer have the option

to choose it for ourselves.

Our biologies tell us all

we need to know.


My husband is still my husband

though he gathers his mortal attachments

and puts them back on

layer by layer.

When he heads for the cloudiness

of the warm summer night

we first stop to embrace one another.

I can feel he has let go

from the inside.

I can tell I am no longer

tethered to his boat ramp that

is drowning in grief

so I let the embrace last longer.

I hold his heart in mine

so that it leaves coated in the

assurance that love will find it again.


My husband is still my husband,

but we will soon draw the papers

that take that away from us.

It won’t ever change how

I feel about the way our lives collided.

There will always be a part of him

embedded in me because

he taught me how to love me.

He taught me how to see what

he saw when we fell in love.

A paper will never take that love

away from us.

As much as I don’t understand it

I still feel like we will still

be connected in the eternities.


When my husband is no longer my husband

there will still be a fondness that bubbles

when I remember the memories.

The look he had when he first

held our son.

Sharing cocoa and toast.

The first hug after a long day when

I had to hold my breath without

him realizing it because he

always worked so hard for us.

We were healing ground for each other,

and this is what matters most



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