from these pages
what is written
will become
of all I am –
words I thought would hold
what’s left of you
from these stories
might you learn
of some other way
I loved –
breath that was
the only way I knew

tears to flood
an ocean –
I sailed into the sun
carried by my longing
with a wish
to understand
the whys for which
you stayed away –
longer lest I grieve
days I rose
to curse
these empty hands

. . .