The sound of a
Still-cast moon
Hovering
Silent
In the dwell-

The gentleness
Of piano keys
Rubbing the pads
Of your finger tips
In an empty,
Lonely room

The wind chime
In your voice
Tinking with laughter
And a smile
Conjuring pride
Telling tales
Of your daughter

The crinkle in your
Hands
Holding,
Protecting
My ignorant
Little heart
As time
Ticked on
And on
Like the beat
Of a steady drum.

How a
Broken heart
Is not a saying
But the sensation
Of falling
Like a splitting
Desperation and
Despair in
Your chest.
When a burning light
Dissipates into
Ash
And smoke.
Suffocating.

Being left alone
By loneliness itself
And missing what
It feels like
To feel whole.

To be in a world
Without you
Is something
I know well
But is what
I wish
I've never known.