I’m ill-mannered
Hopefully, my poetics
Bring enough etiquette
To the table

Tablets full
Of carved feelings
Have artfully
Aided ancient hearts
For ages
Then made it
To the pages
Of history

My story
Should be shared
With hers
Not wither
Without at least
A statement

And I offer much more
A description
Of what I attest
Inscribed on the right
Side of my chest

All to often
Are words
Rendered worthless
Worth
Less than the effects
Of sticks or stones
Thrown

Don’t mistake
This passage
As a passive attempt
Of tempering
My aggression
Of your antics
Rather absence…

Absinthe sips
Seems to reminisce
Your scent
Since you’ve
Been missing
I’m empty
You’re not seen
Like the spaces
Between my words
But you’re presence
Is still there
And uphold
What’s left of me