I love poetry

The Dress She Left Me

There hangs a dress once worn by you,
soft with memories stitched in every seam.
You spoke of it so many times,
wanting these hands to one day hold
what once rested against your skin.

And when my cousin carried it to you
so you could finally give it to me,
I did not know
it would become a sacred thing.

Today, for the very first time,
only two days after losing you,
I slipped that dress over my trembling body.
My grief was heavy,
settling into every breath,
every heartbeat aching for you.

But the moment the fabric touched my skin,
something inside me softened.

It felt as though your arms
had wrapped themselves around me once more.
The gentle weight of the dress comforted me
in ways words never could.
And for a fleeting moment,
my sorrow gave way to warmth.

I imagined your laughter in its folds,
your strength woven through every thread,
your perfume, your sweat,
the quiet evidence of a life so fully lived.

And though death has taken your voice,
this dress still speaks of you.

It cradles my body
the way your love once cradled my heart.
And when I wear it,
I do not feel so far from you.

For a moment,
through cloth and memory,
you are here again.