I looked in the place, where the gifts still sit
ungiven on your birthday some seventy-two days past
I wept great sobs into that empty room
and fell to the floor, foetal and shivering
I though of how I had imagined
your smile and your joy, and how that brought me such
a lift in my heart.
I looked at them there, and at the unopened card
romantic and sexy and practical and sweet
and all carefully chosen
because I know you so well, or thought that I did
I lay there, keening your name in desolate gasps
and remembered how we fell
into breath-taking love and the promises we made
and how in the blink of an eye you forgot
and abandoned. And I remembered stolen
moments and Christmas and how you told me
you needed me. Your name is an invocation
on my lips now, but it always was. A heartfelt prayer
that only you could hear.
This is my life, tears and grieving and sorrow
sleepless nightmares and daytime terrors
The gifts still sit, ungiven and forlorn
unwanted and undesired, taking space
that should have been yours
keeping company with me
into dissolution

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