Goodbye to that feeling
And the memories all wrapped upon themselves.
A ball of woolen yarn.
Easter egg yellow and soft
Easy to play with.
Familiar to push in
with the tip of my forefinger.
Goodbye to the sense
Of always knowing the scents of each others’ necks.
The value of one anothers’ eye locks.
The price of the other’s forfeit.
I have not been able to burrow
A hole deep enough in which sprouted roots are
Strong enough to level the uneasiness
Or faceted enough to hook one of your many loose ends.
I have not succeeded in changing anything.
Is what I say
Because I know no other way to
Articulate this loss.