Undead

After she was gone
He was invited to her home
It was strangely musty
And empty
And cold
The colors were dull
Pinks and creams
The floors and walls
Were too formal
The furniture was stiff-looking
With gaudy ornamentation
This house belonged
To a time she was never a part of
He associated none of this with her
But took a seat
The couch indeed was structured
Two strangers greeted him
He knew them by words
Descriptions that were lost on them
Nothing she had ever spoken
Had meaning any longer
There had never been a reason
The words led to nothing
She now was nothing
Every word
And glance
And breath
Was wasted
He shook the unbearable thought
From his head
They led him down a hallway
Left him outside a hard looking door
The strangers exchanged glances
And betrayed themselves
With quavering sighs
"The room has not been touched"
Was all they gave
Before leaving him alone
He gazed at the door
It wasn't her
Nevertheless his hand shook
As he reached for the knob
And as he slowly opened the door
He was mildly aware
She had touched this knob
Suddenly she was around him
Her scent
Her presence
Surrounding him
Reds and oranges and vibrancy
This was her
She was everywhere
And suddenly
Death didn't seem so permanent anymore
How could she not be
If she ever was
And how could she have never been
If he could feel her so well now
He collapsed on the bed
Comforted by this sudden feeling
And suddenly it's not just her presence,
Her scent,
It's her touch, her skin
He can hear her voice in his head
See her move about the room
Like an ordinary day
But it isn't an ordinary day
Because for the first time
He realized he had to stop being dead
Because she certainly wasn't.