Countenance In A Coffin Poem by Uriah Hamilton

Sit in the park where we met
and write me a final letter
with paper and pen
like perhaps our grandparents did.

As I wait in the airport to depart,
I'll desperately reread it
slowly taking in every word
like breaking secret code.

I've shed tears in cafes,
I've wept in bookstores,
I've been inconsolable
in grocery lines
when I've had you on my mind.

I won't ask you again
to marry me
but I can't pretend
to be your friend.

Yes or no?
can these feelings for you
continue to linger?
I have no way of understanding
how long this can last
or if even your countenance in a coffin
could remove it.