1313.

Now there is a gulf
that holds our distances both
close and set apart.

1312.

I used to kneel on
that floor/bed/seat and fill my
mouth with you. Empty.

1311.

Your eyes cast outward
like constellations. Beauty
and myth, out of reach.

1310.

I used to believe
in you like others might in
Jesus. Lost faith hurts.

1309.

Each memory lost
as a mix of salve or psalm.
Always some cover.

1308.

A spectrum cast to
opposites and magnetic
counter-attractions.

1307.

Here emotional
maelstroms are routine. So much
habit in breaking.