I won’t recover easily from you,
back into the earth of loneliness I’ll go
with the smell of decay,
alone, remembering, all bones
and skin and useless will my body be
but it once knew how to please you.
So will my mornings be,
every morning and every afternoon
I shall be dying more away from you.
Away from you, an unbearable phrase
as is the thought. The truth in words
that I can not say without fear.
My afternoons will be filled
with reading your letters out loud
and hear words from when we had no idea,
from before our hands held each other,
before our eyes met,
or was it after. The ink is fading.
So will my evenings be,
in twilight when your shadow seems to haunt,
when silence kills my screaming
before the night takes all of me
in dreams. Of course I shall get over you,
I just won’t recover easily.