She is not with me
the disconnect is wide and obvious,
the want fleeting
I never really knew her at all

except for those days
when she walked me through secret places
and watched me, seeing her
places I can’t recall
the constant in the memory is the look on her face
innocence spanning the spaces between our hands

we reached something then
a road that I crossed,
always looking back
hoping to catch her
seeing me
as if there was ever any clarity in a storm

the spirit fades with time
bedside overtures fell upon closed lids
and the clock moved
just as it was too late to say goodbye

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others