“I am going to my happy place”, said the crumpled note in my palm,
She seemed truly at peace, lying motionless between crisp clean white sheets,
Anyone seeing her for the first time would have thought her to be deep asleep.
Over the following days,
Words I didn’t hear were spoken, songs with no melody were sung,
Then all that was left of her, was a mound rising from the earth.
Some days I find myself in her room, her crumpled note in my palm,
hoping she is truly in her happy place, and if she is,
what that means about the place she left me in.