I remember you that early morn,
you were sleeping on our bed.
I had to wake you up. You were leaving me
but the bus taking you
home was going to leave you.
And so I took this last photograph of you
sleeping soundly on our bed
as though the world is a bubble
that even I cannot hurt you.
I cannot hurt you any more.

I took a bath under the dim lights of a candlestick.
The sound of the water gurgling on the tub would be my ally and foe
from then on. Every morning I hear it and I
remember; imagine you up there
in our room, on our bed
just before you left.

And so,
everyday I mourn
I mourn for you and I mourn for me
I mourn for the lost life and possibility.