You tore a hole in my heart
and promised to fill it over 15 years.
But black light came early
and here I lay bleeding.
You come now in dreams,
in the corner of my near eye
I see you.
But we don’t talk
the way we used to do.
I can’t pick you up, warm and soft
and carousel the room for you.
I watch the stillness of a pile of toys
and the whisp of warmth
in the linen curtains
where you used to sleep.
Think of all the days since
that I haven’t kissed your head.