You said I was
enough. Saying I was
meant you shouldn't have left.
How many times do our
cats call you every night?
They look for a person
on your bedside. I lie
to them saying you would
come back. One day,
they were missing you,
crying; it is also the sound of my heart
falling apart.
I felt sick. Picking up pieces
of myself, as futile as making a castle
in the sand, to be washed away by the waves.

And so I left home to
find solace in another's embrace.
Countless women I've met, used
to the unfamiliar cielings and
epiphany I have when morning came,
that her embrace is not yours,
your lips aren't the one
I kissed. The devil
must be so happy but
inside me I am empty.

Every passing day and night,
amidst all imperfect smiles, and
hollow moans and laughter,
I touch my chest
to look for
anyone in it. I miss
the cry of our cats.