Fingertips
Left footsteps
Along my arms
Ghost touch
Invisible much
All but bearable to me
His calm voice
His melody
I don't miss those
Personal felony
To think that my life
Should stand still
Because of his absence
Which left holes in places
That now catch a draft
When the winter blows in
And touches my bones
He took off
Without warning
Doesn't matter much anymore
This is not a poem about him
But simply of the void he left behind