I am who I am from the paths
the hurts the joys the failures
the successes…the wants and
needs; a pointillist portrait, it
creates me.

There is a sadness lost…also
silent sitting on dreams of
touching feeling seeing…on
moments once had now, not,
…felt/remembered.

I am those memories dreams
wandering sadness, seeing
all nothing wondering where;
feeling the texture of loss, of
knowing less.

There is a moment felt long
ago, brought back from an
edge forgotten…pushed into
a past undefined, unknown
always lived.

I am living what I don’t know
forgetting what I do…always
pushing you away grasping
toward a void an ethereal
mist hidden you

There is a ghost in my lungs
I breathed in when you left
it lives in me, a sad shadow
something once felt, had,
lived in…loved.

I am in ways a little part of
who you were, small stabs of
your smile/tears/pleading
eyes waiting for me to wake
to become me again.

There is an indentation, a
mark where the weight of
who you were to me, to my
future, self, today and
tomorrow…it was here.

I am better for the passing
worse for the wait, always
watching proud/envious/sorry
while your shadow fades from
my stained soul…

There is a picture; you indelible
in my dreams—back straight
standing tall upright sad and
smiling—you walking away;
far away eyes.