It cuts and it tears.
It screams and it swears
wordlessly but noisily.
It’s like an upset two year-old
After the storm, it quiets down.
Eventually, it grows
like a misunderstood teenager. It looms around my being.
Then, after that departure, all there’s
left is emptiness,
room that you used to fill with your dreams and words,
with your touch.
It’s the space in my being that’s silhouetted after you,
that you once molded
and crafted so carefully
of which I only see the shadow, the memory now.
The space that carries your name, that only you can fill.
When, when will I see you again.