You haven't called since you were 21

since the world had
laid its
hand on you
and you had fallen
down to
love's abyss

you haven't shown your face since
you were 21

since he took you to
a fathomless deep
where you held your
breath to swim
against the
darkest current
the deepest cavern
of anguish
and of regret, too

I have a picture of you.

an old photograph that's
sort of hazy
where your arm
is wrapped around me
and the August sun is
high

I'm waiting, love

I'm waiting for you
to surface from the
dungeon that is
jealousy and from
the sorrow that is
fear
and emerge out
of lover's angst
until you're in the river
and the water becomes
clear.