Forever in Our Hearts
A Taphophile Poem
His wife claimed he was a gentle man,
Doting across their marriage’s span—
She worried she might perish from grief.
His brother clung to a childish beef,
Mocking turning over a new leaf—
He fretted he might not get his due.
He never let his daughter be blue,
She believed his white lies to be true—
She feared her world might stop spinning.
To the priest, he confessed his sinning,
But the clergy men caught him grinning—
He knew something they couldn’t fathom.
He haunted each, not as a phantom,
But as shards of himself in tandem—
He’d sunk barbed hooks into their hearts.
Each mournful soul played their separate parts,
To plot a course on blasphemous charts—
Far beyond the scope of mortal man.